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LETTERS  OF  LYDIA  MARIA  CHILD 


WITH 


A BIOGRAPHICAL  INTRODUCTION 

Br  JOHN  G.  WHITTIER 


AND 


AN  APPENDIX 

By  WENDELL  PHILLIPS 


BOSTON 

HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND  COMPANY 

New  York:  11  East  Seventeenth  Street 

(3C6e  diber^ibe  Camliriboe 
1883 


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Copyright,  1882, 

By  HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  & CO. 

All  rights  reserved. 


P.-4.I.R1 

The  Riverside  Press,  Cambridge: 
Stereotyped  and  Printed  by  H.  0.  Houghton  & Co. 

BOSTON  COLLEGE  LIBRARY 
CHESTNUT  HILL,  MASS. ' 


\\ 


PREFATOEY  NOTE. 


When  the  friend  whom  Mrs.  Child  would  have 
chosen  above  all  others  consented  to  write  a bio- 
graphical introduction  to  this  volume,  solely  as  a la- 
bor of  love,  the  compiler,  though  an  entire  novice  at 
such  work,  could  not  refuse  his  urgent  request  — sec- 
onded by  one  of  Mrs.  Child’s  nearest  relations,  to 
whom  she  had  left  her  papers  — to  select  and  arrange 
her  letters. 

Her  life  was  so  much  richer  in  thought  and  senti- 
ment than  in  events,  and  so  devoted  to  the  progress- 
ive movements  relating  to  human  weal  and  woe,  that 
it  is  thought  her  letters,  given  in  chronological  order, 
will  almost  tell  her  whole  story. 

If  any  correspondents  miss  some  favorite  letter  in 
the  collection,  we  would  remind  them  of  the  embar- 
rassment of  riches ; for  her  correspondence  extended 
over  sixty  years ; and  of  the  impossibility  of  suiting 
all  tastes ; and  we  cordially  thank  them  all  for  the 
abundant  supply  of  material. 


PUBLISHERS’  NOTE. 


The  portrait  of  Mrs.  Child  which  is  prefixed  to 
this  volume,  while  failing  to  satisfy  some  of  her  near- 
est relatives  and  friends,  who  would  have  preferred 
not  to  have  it  appear,  is  yet  so  much  liked  by  other 
friends  who  knew  her  well  that  the  Publishers  do  not 
feel  justified  in  withholding  it  from  the  public.  Mrs. 
Child  herself  was  always  averse  to  being  photo- 
graphed, and  there  is  no  thoroughly  good  and  satis- 
factory portrait  of  her  in  existence,  so  that  the  en- 
graver’s task  has  necessarily  been  a difficult  one,  and 
his  success  greater  than  could  reasonably  have  been 
anticipated. 


CONTENTS. 


PAQ£ 

Introduction v~xxv 

Letters 1-261 

Appendix. 

Remarks  of  Wendell  Phillips  at  the  Funeral  of  Mrs.  Child  263 

“ Within  the  Gate,”  by  John  G.  Whittier  . ...  269 

List  of  Mrs.  Child’s  Works 272 

Index 275 


i 

I 


INTRODUCTION. 


In  presenting  to  the  public  this  memorial  volume, 
its  compilers  deemed  that  a brief  biographical  intro- 
, duction  was  necessary  ; and  as  a labor  of  love  I have 
not  been  able  to  refuse  their  request  to  prepare  it. 

Lydia  Maria  Francis  was  born  in  Medford,  Massa- 
chusetts, February  11,  1802.  Her  father,  David 
Francis,  was  a worthy  and  substantial  citizen  of  that 
town.  Her  brother.  Con  vers  Francis,  afterwards 
theological  professor  in  Harvard  College,  was  some 
years  older  than  herself,  and  assisted  her  in  her  early 
home  studies,  though,  with  the  perversity  of  an  elder 
brother,  he  sometimes  mystified  her  in  answering  her 
questions.  Once,  when  she  wished  to  know  what  was 
meant  by  Shakespeare’s  “ raven  down  of  darkness,” 
which  was  made  to  smile  when  smoothed,  he  ex- 
plained that  it  was  only  the  fur  of  a black  cat,  which 
sparkled  when  stroked ! Later  in  life  this  brother 
wrote  of  her,  “ She  has  been  a dear,  good  sister  to 
me  : would  that  I had  been  half  as  good  a brother  to 
her.”  Her  earliest  teacher  was  an  aged  spinster, 
known  in  the  village  as  “ Marm  Betty,”  painfully 
shy,  and  with  many  oddities  of  person  and  manner, 
the  never-forgotten  calamity  of  whose  life  was  that 
Governor  Brooks  once  saw  her  drinking  out  of  the 
nose  of  her  tea-kettle.  Her  school  was  in  her  bed- 
room, always  untidy,  and  she  was  a constant  chewer 


VI 


INTRODUCTION. 


of  tobacco ; but  the  children  were  fond  of  her,  and 
Maria  and  her  father  always  carried  her  a good  Sun- 
day dinner.  Thomas  W.  Higginson,  in  “ Eminent 
Women  of  the  Age,”  mentions  in  this  connection 
that,  according  to  an  established  custom,  on  the 
night  before  Thanksgiving  “ all  the  humble  friends 
of  the  Francis  household  — Marm  Betty,  the  washer- 
woman, wood-sawyer,  and  journeymen,  some  twenty 
or  thirty  in  all  — were  summoned  to  a preliminary 
entertainment.  They  there  partook  of  an  immense 
chicken  pie,  pumpkin  pie  made  in  milk-pans,  and 
heaps  of  doughnuts.  They  feasted  in  the  large,  old- 
fashioned  kitchen  ; and  went  away  loaded  with  crack- 
ers and  bread  and  pies,  not  forgetting  ‘turnovers’ 
for  the  children.  Such  plain  application  of  the  doc- 
trine that  it  is  more  blessed  to  give  than  receive 
may  have  done  more  to  mould  the  character  of  Lydia 
Maria  Child  of  maturer  years  than  all  the  faithful 
labors  of  good  Dr.  Osgood,  to  whom  she  and  her 
brother  used  to  repeat  the  Assembly’s  catechism  once 
a month.” 

Her  education  was  limited  to  the  public  schools, 
with  the  exception  of  one  year  at  a private  seminary 
in  her  native  town.  From  a note  by  her  brother.  Dr. 
Francis,  we  learn  that  when  twelve  years  of  age  she 
went  to  Norridgewock,  Maine,  where  her  married  sis- 
ter resided.  At  Dr.  Brown’s,  in  Skowhegan,  she  first 
read  “ Waverley.”  She  was  greatly  excited,  and  ex- 
claimed, as  she  laid  down  the  book,  “ Why  cannot  I 
write  a novel  ? ” She  remained  in  Norridgewock  and 
vicinity  for  several  years,  and  on  her  return  to  Massa- 
chusetts took  up  her  abode  with  her  brother  at  Water- 
town.  He  encouraged  her  literary  tastes,  and  it  was 
in  his  study  that  she  commenced  her  first  story, 


INTRODUCTION. 


vii 


“ Hobomok,”  which  she  published  in  the  twenty-first 
year  of  her  age.  The  success  it  met  with  induced 
her  to  give  to  the  public,  soon  after,  “ The  Rebels : a 
Tale  of  the  Revolution,”  which  was  at  once  received 
into  popular  favor,  and  ran  rapidly  through  several 
editions.  Then  followed  in  close  succession  “ The 
Mother’s  Book,”  running  through  eight  American 
editions,  twelve  English,  and  one  German,  “ The 
Girl’s  Book,”  the  “History  of 'Women,”  and  the 
“Frugal  Housewife,”  of  which  thirty-five  editions 
were  published.  Her  “ Juvenile  Miscellany  ” was 
commenced  in  1826. 

It  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  half  a century  ago  ( 
she  was  the  most  popular  literary  woman  in  the  \ 
United  States.  She  had  published  historical  novels  \ 
of  unquestioned  power  of  description  and  character- 
ization, and  was  widely  and  favorably  known  as  the 
editor  of  the  “ Juvenile  Miscellany,”  which  was  prob- 
ably the  first  periodical  in  the  English  tongue  devoted 
exclusively  to  children,  and  to  which  she  was  by  far 
the  largest  contributor.  Some  of  the  tales  and  poems 
from  her  pen  were  extensively  copied  and  greatly  ad- 
mired. It  was  at  this  period  that  the  “ North  AroenU^ 
can  Review,”  the  highest  literary  authority  of  the 
country,  said  of  her,  “We  are  not  sure  that  any 
woman  of  our  country  could  outrank  Mrs.  Child.  ; 
This  lady  has  been  long  before  the  public  as  an  au- 
thor with  much  success.  And  she  well  deserves  it, 
for  in  all  her  works  nothing  can  be  found  which  does 
not  commend  itself,  by  its  tone  of  healthy  morality 
and  good  sense.  Few  female  writers,  if  any,  have 
done  more  or  better  things  for  our  literature  in  the 
lighter  or  graver  departments.” 

Comparatively  young,  she  had  placed  herself  in 


yiii 


INTRODUCTION. 


the  front  rank  of  American  authorship.  Her  books 
and  her  magazine  had  a large  circulation,  and  were 
affording  her  a comfortable  income,  at  a time  when 
^ the  rew'ards  of  authorship  were  uncertain  and  at  the 
'best  scanty. 

In  1828^  she  married  David  Lee  Child,  Esq.,  a 
young  and  able  lawyer,  and  took  up  her  residence  in 
Boston.  In  1831-32  both  became  deeply  interested 
in  the  subject  of  slavery,  through  the  writings  and 
personal  influence  of  William  Lloyd  Garrison.  Her 
husband,  a member  of  the  Massachusetts  legislature 
and  editor  of  the  “ Massachusetts  Journal,”  had,  at 
an  earlier  date,  denounced  the  project  of  the  dismem- 
berment of  Mexico  for  the  purpose  of  strengthening 
and  extending  American  slavery.  , He  was  one  of  the 
earliest  members  of  the  New  England  Anti-Slavery 
Socie^.  and  his  outspoken  hostility  to  the  peculiar 
institution  greatly  and  unfavorably  affected  his  inter- 
ests as  a lawyer.  In  1832  he  addressed  a series  of 
able  letters  on  slavery  and  the  slave-trade  to  Edward 
S.  Abdy,  a prominent  English  philanthropist.  In  1836 
he  published  in  Philadelphia  ten  strongly  written  ar- 
ticles on  the  same  subject.  He  visited  England  and 
France  in  1837,  and  while  in  Paris  addressed  an  elab- 
orate memoir  to  the  Societe  pour  I’Abolition  d’Escla- 
vage,  and  a paper  on  the  same  subject  to  the  editor 
of  the  “ Eclectic  Review,”  in  London.  To  his  facts 
and  arguments  John  Quincy  Adams  was  much  in- 
debted in  the  speeches  which  he  delivered  in  Con.- 
gress  on  the  Texas  question. 

In  1833  the  American  Anti-Slavery  Society  was 
formed  b}?-  a convention  in  Philadelphia.  Its  num- 
bers were  small,  and  it  was  everywhere  spoken  against. 
It  was  at  this  time  that  Lydia  Maria  Child  startled 


INTRODUCTION. 


ix 

the  country  by  the  publication  of  her  noble  “ Appeal  / 
in  behalf  of  that  Class  of  Americans  called  Africans^/ 
It  is  quite  impossible  for  any  one  of  the  present  gen- 
eration to  imagine  the  popular  surprise  and  indigna- 
tion which  the  book  called  forth-,  or  how  entirely  its 
author  cut  herself  off  from  the  favor  and  sympathy 
of  a large  number  of  those  who  had  previously  de- 
lighted to  do  her  honor.  Social  and  literary  circles, 
which  had  been  proud  of  her  presence,  closed  their 
doors  against  her.  The  sale  of  her  books,  the  sub- 
scriptions to  her  magazine,  fell  off  to  a ruinous  ex- 
tent. She  knew  all  she  was  hazarding,  and  made  the 
great  sacrifice,  prepared  for  all  the  consequences  which 
followed.  In  the  preface  to  her  book  she  says,  “ I 
am  fully  aware  of  the  unpopularity  of  the  task  I have 
undertaken  ; but  though  I expect  ridicule  and  censure, 

I do  not  fear  them.  A few  years  hence,  the  opinion 
of  the  world  will  be  a matter  in  which  I have  not 
even  the  most  transient  interest ; but  this  book  will 
be  abroad  on  its  mission  of  humanity  long  after  the 
hand  that  wrote  it  is  mingling  with  the  dust.  Should 
it  be  the  means  of  advancing,  even  one  single  hour, 
the  inevitable  progress  of  truth  and  justice,  I would 
not  exchange  the  consciousness  for  all  Rothschild’s 
wealth  or  Sir  Walter’s  fame.” 

Thenceforth  her  life  was  a battle  ; a constant  row-  \ 
ing  hard  against  the  stream  of  popular  prejudice  and 
hatred.  And  through  it  all  — pecuniary  privation,  | 
loss  of  friends  and  position,  the  painfulness  of  being 
suddenly  thrust  from  ‘‘  the  still  air  of  delightful  stud- 
ies ” into  the  bitterest  and  sternest  controversy  of  the 
age  — she  bore  herself  with  patience,  fortitude,  and 
unshaken  reliance  upon  the  justice  and  ultimate  tri- 
umph of  the  cause  she  had  espoused.  Her  pen  was 


X 


INTRODUCTION. 


never  idle.  Wherever  there  was  a brave  word  to  be 
spoken,  her  voice  was  heard,  and  never  without  effect. 
It  is  not  exaggeration  to  say  that  no  man  or  woman 
at  that  period  rendered  more  substantial  service  to 
the  cause  of  freedom,  or  made  such  a “ great  renun- 
ciation ” in  doing  it. 

A practical  philanthropist,  she  had  the  courage  of 
her  convictions,  and  from  the  first  was  no  mere  closet 
moralist,  or  sentimental  be  waller  of  the  woes  of  hu- 
manity. She  was  the  Samaritan  stooping  over  the 
wounded  Jew.  She  calmly  and  unflinchingly  took 
her  place  by  the  side  of  the  despised  slave  and  free 
man  of  color,  and  in  word  and  act  protested  against 
the  cruel  prejudice  which  shut  out  its  victims  from 
<^^th^ rights  and  privileges  of  American  citizens.  Her 
philanthropy  had  no  taint  of  fanaticism  ; through- 
out the  long  struggle,  in  which  she  was  a prominent 
actor,  she  kept  her  fine  sense  of  humor,  good  taste, 
and  sensibility  to  the  beautiful  in  art  and  nature.^ 

1 The  opposition  she  met  with  from  those  who  had  shared  her  con- 
fidence and  friendship  was  of  course  keenly  felt,  but  her  kindly  and 
genial  disposition  remained  unsoured.  She  rarely  spoke  of  her  per- 
sonal trials,  and  never  posed  as  a martyr.'  The  nearest  approach  to 
anything  like  complaint  is  in  the  following  lines,  the  date  of  which  I 
have  not  been  able  to  ascertain  : — 

THE  WORLD  THAT  I AM  PASSING  THROUGH. 

Few  in  the  days  of  early  j'outh 
Trusted  like  me  in  love  and  truth. 

I’ve  learned  sad  lessons  from  the  years, 

But  slowly,  and  with  many  tears ; 

For  God  made  me  to  kindly  view 
The  world  that  I am  passing  through. 

Though  kindness  and  forbearance  long 
Must  meet  ingratitude  and  wrong, 

I still  would  bless  my  fellow-men, 

And  trust  them  though  deceived  again. 

God  help  me  still  to  kindly  view 
The  world  that  I am  passing  through. 


INTRODUCTION. 


xi 


While  faithful  to  the  great  duty  which  she  felt  was 
laid  upon  her  in  an  especial  manner,  she  was  by  no 
means  a reformer  of  one  idea,  but  her  interest  was 
manifested  in  every  question  affecting  the  welfare  of 
humanity.  Peace,  temperance,  education,  prison  re- 
form, and  equality  of  civil  rights,  irrespective  of  sex, 
engaged  her  attention.  Under  all  the  disadvantages 
of  her  estrangement  from  popular  favor,  her  charming 
Greek  romance  of  “ Philothea”  and  her  Lives  of  Ma- 
dame Roland  and  the  Baroness  de  Stael  proved  that 
her  literary  ability  had  lost  nothing  of  its  strength, 
and  that  the  hand  which  penned  such  terrible  rebukes 
had  still  kept  its  delicate  touch,  and  gracefully 
yielded  to  the  inspiration  of  fancy  and  art.  While 
engaged  with  her  husband  in  the  editorial  supervision 
of  the  “ Anti-Slavery  Standard,”  she  wrote  her  ad- 
mirable “Letters  from  New  York;”  humorous,  elo- 
quent, and  picturesque,  but  still  humanitarian  in 
tone,  which  extorted  the  praise  of  even  a pro-slavery 

From  all  that  fate  has  brought  to  me 
I strive  to  learn  humility, 

And  trust  in  Him  who  rules  above, 

Whose  universal  law  is  love. 

Thus  only  can  I kindly  view 

The  world  that  I am  passing  through. 

When  I approach  the  setting  sun, 

And  feel  my  journey  well-nigh  done, 

May  earth  be  veiled  in  genial  light. 

And  her  last  smile  to  me  seem  bright. 

Help  me  till  then  to  kindly  view 
The  world  that  I am  passing  through. 

And  all  who  tempt  a trusting  heart 
From  faith  and  hope  to  drift  apart, 

May  they  themselves  be  spared  the  pain 
Of  losing  power  to  trust  again. 

God  help  us  all  to  kindly  view 

The  world  that  we  are  passing  through ! 


INTRODUCTION. 


xii 

community.  Her  great  work,  in  three  octavo  vol- 
umes, “ The  Progress  of  Religious  Ideas,”  belongs,  in 
part,  to  that  period.  It  is  an  attempt  to  represent 
in  a candid,  unprejudiced  manner  the  rise  and  prog- 
ress of  the  great  religions  of  the  world,  and  their 
ethical  relations  to  each  other.  She  availed  herself 
of,  and  carefully  studied,  the  authorities  at  that 
time  accessible,  and  the  result  is  creditable  to  her 
scholarship,  industry,  and  conscientiousness.  If,  in 
her  desire  to  do  justice  to  the  religions  of  Buddha 
and  Mohammed,  in  which  she  has  been  followed  by 
Maurice,  Max  Muller,  and  Dean  Stanley,  she  seems 
at  times  to  dwell  upon  the  best  and  overlook  the 
darker  features  of  those  systems,  her  concluding  re- 
flections should  vindicate  her  from  the  charge  of  un- 
dervaluing the  Christian  faith,  or  of  lack  of  reverent 
appreciation  of  its  founder.  In  the  closing  chapter 
of  her  work,  in  which  the  large  charity  and  broad 
sympathies  of  her  nature  are  manifest,  she  thus  turns 
with  words  of  love,  warm  from  the  heart,  to  Him 
whose  Sermon  on  the  Mount  includes  most  that  is 
good  and  true  and  vital  in  the  religions  and  philoso- 
phies of  the  world  : — 

“ It  was  reserved  for  Him  to  heal  the  broken- 
hearted, to  preach  a gospel  to  the  poor,  to  say, 

‘ Her  sins,  which  are  many,  are  forgiven,  for  she  loved 
much.’  Nearly  two  thousand  years  have  passed  away 
since  these  words  of  love  and  pity  were  uttered,  yet 
when  I read  them  my  eyes  fill  with  tears.  I thank 
Thee,  O Heavenly  Father,  for  all  the  messengers  thou 
hast  sent  to  man  ; but,  above  all,  I thank  Thee  for 
Him,  thy  beloved  Son  ! Pure  lily  blossom  of  the 
centuries,  taking  root  in  the  lowliest  depths,  and  re- 
ceiving the  light  and  warmth  of  heaven  in  its  golden 


INTRODUCTION. 


Xlll 


heart ! All  that  the  pious  have  felt,  all  that  poets 
have  said,  all  that  artists  have  done,  with  their  man- 
ifold forms  of  beauty,  to  represent  the  ministry  of 
Jesus,  are  but  feeble  expressions  of  the  great  debt 
we  owe  Him  who  is  even  now  curing  the  lame,  restor- 
ing sight  to  the  blind,  and  raising  the  dead  in  that 
spiritual  sense  wherein  all  miracle  is  true.” 

During  her  stay  in  New  York,  as  editor  of  the 
“ Anti-Slavery  Standard,”  she  found  a pleasant  home 
at  the  residence  of  the  genial  philanthropist,  Isaac  T. 
Hopper,  whose  remarkable  life  she  afterwards  wrote. 
Her  portrayal  of  this  extraordinary  man,  so  brave, 
so  humorous,  so  tender  and  faithful  to  his  convictions 
of  duty,  is  one  of  the  most  readable  pieces  of  biogra- 
phy in  English  literature.  Thomas  Wentworth  Hig- 
ginson,  in  a discriminating  paper  published  in  1869, 
speaks  of  her  eight  years’  sojourn  in  New  York  as 
the  most  interesting  and  satisfactory  period  of  her 
whole  life.  “ She  was  placed  where  her  sympathetic 
nature  found  abundant  outlet  and  occupation.  Dwell- 
ing in  a house  where  disinterestedness  and  noble 
labor  were  as  daily  breath,  she  had  great  opportuni- 
ties. There  was  no  mere  alms-giving ; but  sin  and 
sorrow  must  be  brought  home  to  the  fireside  and  the 
heart;  the  fugitive  slave,  the  drunkard,  the  outcast 
woman,  must  be  the  chosen  guests  of  the  abode,  — 
must  be  taken,  and  held,  and  loved  into  reformation 
or  hope.” 

It  would  be  a very  imperfect  representation  of 
Maria  Child  which  regarded  her  only  from  a literary 
point  of  view.  She  was  wise  in  counsel ; and  men 
like  Charles  Sumner,  Henry  Wilson,  Salmon  P.  Chase, 
and  Governor  Andrew  availed  themselves  of  her  fore- 
sight and  sound  judgment  of  men  and  measures.  Her 


XIV 


INTRODUCTION. 


pen  was  busy  with  correspondence,  and  whenever  a 
true  man  or  a good  cause  needed  encouragement,  she 
was  prompt  to  give  it.  Her  donations  for  benevolent 
causes  and  beneficent  reforms  were  constant  and  lib- 
eral ; and  only  those  who  knew  her  intimately  could 
understand  the  cheerful  and  unintermitted  self-denial 
which  alone  enabled  her  to  make  them.  She  did  her 
work  as  far  as  possible  out  of  sight,  without  noise  or 
pretension.  Her  time,  talents,  and  money  were  held 
not  as  her  own,  but  a trust  from  the  Eternal  Father 
for  the  benefit  of  His  suffering  children.  Her  plain, 
cheap  dress  was  glorified  by  the  generous  motive  for 
which  she  wore  it.  Whether  in  the  crowded  city 
among  the  sin-sick  and  starving,  or  among  the  poor 
and  afflicted  in  the  neighborhood  of  her  country  home, 
no  story  of  suffering  and  need,  capable  of  alleviation, 
ever  reached  her  without  immediate  sympathy  and 
corresponding  action.  Lowell,  one  of  her  warmest 
admirers,  in  his  “ Fable  for  Critics  ” has  beautifully 
portrayed  her  abounding  benevolence  : — 

“ There  comes  Pliilothea,  her  face  all  aglow, 

She  has  just  been  dividing  some  poor  creature’s  woe. 

And  can’t  tell  which  pleases  her  most,  to  relieve 
His  want,  or  his  story  to  hear  and  believe ; 

No  doubt  against  many  deep  griefs  she  prevails, 

For  her  ear  is  the  refuge  of  destitute  tales ; 

She  knows  well  that  silence  is  sorrow’s  best  food, 

And  that  talking  draws  off  from  the  heart  its  black  blood.’” 

“ The  pole,  science  tells  us,  the  magnet  controls. 

But  she  is  a magnet  to  emigrant  Poles, 

And  folks  with  a mission  that  nobody  knows. 

Throng  thickly  about  her  as  bees  round  a rose ; 

She  can  fill  up  the  carets  in  such,  make  their  scope 
Converge  to  some  focus  of  rational  hope. 

And,  with  sympathies  fresh  as  the  morning,  their  gall 
Can  transmute  into  honey,  — but  this  is  not  all ; 

Not  only  for  those  she  has  solace  ; 0,  say. 


INTRODUCTION. 


XV 


Vice’s  desperate  nursling  adrift  in  Broadway, 

Who  clingest,  with  all  that  is  left  of  thee  human, 

To  the  last  slender  spar  from  the  wreck  of  the  Avoman, 

Hast  thou  not  found  one  shore  where  those  tired  drooping  feet 
Could  reach  firm  mother-earth,  one  full  heart  on  whose  beat 
The  soothed  head  in  silence  reposing  could  hear 
The  chimes  of  far  childhood  throb  back  on  th'e  ear  ? 

Ah,  there ’s  many  a beam  from  the  fountain  of  day 
That,  to  reach  us  unclouded,  must  pass,  on  its  way. 

Through  the  soul  of  a woman,  and  hers  is  wide  ope 
To  the  influence  of  Heaven  as  the  blue  eyes  of  Hope ; 

Yes,  a great  heart  is  hers,  one  that  dares  to  go  in 
To  the  prison,  the  slave-hut,  the  alleys  of  sin. 

And  to  bring  into  each,  or  to  And  there,  some  line 
Of  the  never  completely  out-trampled  divine  ; 

If  her  heart  at  high  floods  swamps  her  brain  now  and  then, 

’T  is  but  richer  for  that  when  the  tide  ebbs  agen. 

As,  after  old  Nile  has  subsided,  his  plain 
Overflows  with  a second  broad  deluge  of  grain  ; 

What  a wealth  would  it  bring  to  the  narroAV  and  sour, 

Could  they  be  as  a Child  but  for  one  little  hour  ! ” 

After  leaving  New  York  her  husband  and  herself 
took  up  their  residence  in  the  rural  town  of  Way- 
land,  Mass.  Their  house,  plain  and  unpretentious, 
had  a wide  and  pleasant  outlook;  a flower  garden, 
carefully  tended  by  her  own  hands,  in  front,  and  on 
the  side  a fruit  orchard  and  vegetable  garden,  under 
the  special  care  of  her  husband.  The  house  was  al- 
ways neat,  with  some  appearance  of  unostentatious 
decoration,  evincing  at  once  the  artistic  taste  of  the 
hostess  and  the  conscientious  economy  which  forbade 
its  indulgence  to  any  great  extent.  Her  home  was 
somewhat  apart  from  the  lines  of  rapid  travel,  and 
her  hospitality  was  in  a great  measure  confined  to  old 
and  intimate  friends,  while  her  visits  to  the  city  were 
brief  and  infrequent.  A friend  of  hers,  who  had 
ample  opportunities  for  a full  knowledge  of  her 
home-life,  says,  The  domestic  happiness  of  Mr.  and 


XVI 


INTRODUCTION. 


Mrs.  Child  seemed  to  me  perfect.  Their  sympathies, 
their  admiration  of  all  things  good,  and  their  hearty 
hatred  of  all  things  mean  and  evil  were  in  entire 
nnison.  Mr.  Child  shared  his  wife’s  enthusiasms,  and 
was  very  proud  of  her.  Their  affection,  never  pa- 
raded, was  always  manifest.  After  Mr.  Child’s 
death,  Mrs.  Child,  in  speaking  of  the  future  life, 
said,  ‘ I believe  it  would  be  of  small  value  to  me  if 
I were  not  united  to  him.’  ” 

In  this  connection  I cannot  forbear  to  give  an  ex- 
tract from  some  reminiscences  of  her  husband,  which 
she  left  among  her  papers,  which,  better  than  any 
words  of  mine,  will  convey  an  idea  of  their  simple  and 
beautiful  home-life : — 

“ In  1852  we  made  a humble  home  in  Wayland,  Mass., 
where  we  spent  twenty-two  pleasant  years  entirely  alone, 
without  any  domestic,  mutually  serving  each  other,  and  de- 
pendent upon  each  other  for  intellectual  companionship.  I 
always  depended  on  his  richly  stored  mind,  which  was  able 
and  ready  to  furnish  needed  information  on  any  subject# 
He  was  my  walking  dictionary  of  many  languages,  my  Uni- 
versal Encyclopedia. 

“ In  his  old  age  he  was  as  affectionate  and  devoted  as 
when  the  lover  of  my  youth  ; nay,  he  manifested  even  more 
tenderness.  He  was  often  singing,  — 

“ ‘ There ’s  nothing  half  so  sweet  in  life 
As  Love’s  old  dream.’ 

“ Very  often,  when  he  passed  by  me,  he  would  lay  his 
hand  softly  on  my  head  and  murmur,  ‘ Carum  caput.’  . . . 
But  what  I remember  with  the  most  tender  gratitude  is  his 
uniform  patience  and  forbearance  with  my  faults.  . . . He 
never  would  see  anything  but  the  bright  side  of  my  character. 
He  always  insisted  upon  thinking  that  whatever  I said  was 
the  wisest  and  the  wittiest,  and  that  whatever  I did  was  the 
best.  The  simplest  little  jeu  Tesprit  of  mine  seemed  to 


INTRODUCTION. 


XV 11 


him  wonderfully  witty.  Once,  when  he  said,  ‘ I wish  for 
your  sake,  dear,  I were  as  rich  as  Croesus,’  I an^^ed^ 
‘ You  are  Croesus,  for  you  are  king  of  Lydia.’ ""  How  often 
he  used  to  quote  that ! 

“ His  mind  was  unclouded  to  the  last.  He  had  a passion 
for  philology,  and  only  eight  hours  before  he  passed  away 
he  was  searching  out  the  derivation  of  a word.” 

Her  Tvell-stored  mind  and  fine  conversational  gifts 
made  her  company  always  desirable.  No  one  who 
listened  to  her  can  forget  the  earnest  eloquence  with 
which  she  used  to  dwell  upon  the  evidences  from  his- 
tory, tradition,  and  experience,  of  the  superhuman 
and  supernatural ; or  with  what  eager  interest  she 
detected  in  the  mysteries  of  the  old  religions  of  the 
world  the  germs  of  a purer  faith  and  a holier  hope. 
She  loved  to  listen,  as  in  St.  Pierre’s  symposium  of 
“ The  Coffee-House  of  Surat,”  to  the  confessions  of 
faith  of  all  sects  and  schools  of  philosophy,  Christian 
and  pagan,  and  gather  from  them  the  consoling  truth 
that  our  Father  has  nowhere  left  his  children  without 
some  witness  of  himself.  She  loved  the  old  mystics, 
and  lingered  with  curious  interest  and  sympathy  over 
the  writings  of  Bohme,  Swedenborg,  Molinos,  and 
Woolman.  Yet  this  marked  speculative  tendency 
seemed  not  in  the  slightest  degree  to  affect  her  prac- 
tical activities.  Her  mysticism  and  realism  ran  in| 
close  parallel  lines  without  interfering  with  each  othe^ 
With  strong  rationalistic  tendencies  from  education 
and  conviction,  she  found  herself  in  spiritual  accord 
with  the  pious  introversion  of  Thomas  a Kempis 
and  Madame  Guion.  She  was  fond  of  Christmas  Eve 
stories,  of  warnings,  signs,  and  spiritual  intimations, 
her  half  belief  in  which  sometimes  seemed  like  cre- 
dulity to  her  auditors.  James  Russell  Lowell,  in  his 
h 


XVlll 


INTRODUCTION. 


tender  tribute  to  her,  playfully  alludes  to  this  charac- 
teristic : — 

“ She  has  such  a musical  taste  that  she  ’ll  go 
Any  distance  to  hear  one  who  draws  a long  bow. 

She  will  swallow  a wonder  by  mere  might  and  main.” 

In  1859  the  descent  of  John  Brown  upon  Harper’s 
Ferry,  and  his  capture,  trial,  and  death,  startled  the 
nation.  When  the  news  reached  her  that  the  mis- 
guided but  noble  old  man  lay  desperately  wounded 
in  prison,  alone  and  unfriended,  she  wrote  him  a let- 
ter, under  cover  of  one  to  Governor  Wise,  asking  per- 
mission to  go  and  nurse  and  care  for  him.  The  ex- 
pected arrival  of  Captain  Brown’s  wife  made  her 
generous  offer  unnecessary.  The  prisoner  wrote  her, 
thanking  her,  and  asking  her  to  help  his  family,  a re- 
^ quest  with  which  she  faithfully  complied.  With  his 
^ letter  came  one  from  Governor  Wise,  in  courteous  re- 
proval  of  her  sympathy  for  John  Brown.  To  this  she 
^ responded  in  an  able  and  effective  manner.  Her  re- 
( \P^y  its  way  from  Virginia  to  the  New  York 

Tribune,”  and  soon  after  Mrs.  Mason,  of  King 
George’s  County,  wife  of  Senator  Mason,  the  author 
^f  the  infamous  Fugitive  Slave  Law,  wrote  her  a ve- 
\ hement  letter,  commencing  with  threats  of  future 
damnation,  and  ending  with  assuring  her  that  “ no 
Southerner,  after  reading  her  letter  to  Governor  Wise, 
ought  to  read  a line  of  her  composition,  or  touch  a 
magazine  which  bore  her  name  in  its  list  of  contrib- 
utors.” To  this  she  wrote  a calm,  dignified  reply, 
oeclining  to  dwell  on  the  fierce  invectives  of  her  as- 
sailant, and  wishing  her  well  here  and  hereafter.  She 
would  not  debate  the  specific  merits  or  demerits  of  a 
man  whose  body  was  in  charge  of  the  courts,  and 
whose  reputation  was  sure  to  be  in  charge  of  poster 


INTRODUCTION. 


XIX 


ity.  “ Men,”  she  continues,  are  of  small  conse- 
quence in  comparison  with  principles,  and  the  princi- 
ple for  which  John  Brown  died  is  the  question  at 
issue  between  us.”  These  letters  were  soon  published 
in  pamphlet  form,  and  had  the  immense  circulation 
of  300,000  copies. 

In  1867  she  published  “ A Romance  of  the  Repub- 
lic,” a story  of  the  days  of  slavery ; powerful  in  its 
delineation  of  some  of  the  saddest  as  well  as  the  most 
dramatic  conditions  of  master  and  slave  in  the  South- 
ern States.  Her  husband,  who  had  been  long  an 
invalid,  died  in  1874.  After  his  death  her  home,  in 
winter  especially,  became  a lonely  one  ; and  in  1877 
she  began  to  spend  the  cold  months  in  Boston. 

Her  last  publication  was  in  1878,  when  her  “As- 
pirations of  the  World,”  a book  of  selections,  on 
moral  and  religious  subjects,  from  the  literature  of  all 
nations  and  times,  was  given  to  the  public.  The  in- 
troduction, occupying  fifty  pages,  shows,  at  three- 
score and  ten,  her  mental  vigor  unabated,  and  is  re- 
markable for  its  wise,  philosophic  tone  and  felicity  of 
diction.  It  has  the  broad  liberality  of  her  more  elab- 
orate work  on  the  same  subject,  and  in  the  mellow 
light  of  life’s  sunset  her  words  seem  touched  with  a 
tender  pathos  and  beauty.  “ All  we  poor  mortals,” 
she  says,  “ are  groping  our  way  through  paths  that 
are  dim  with  shadows  ; and  we  are  all  striving,  with 
steps  more  or  less  stumbling,  to  follow  some  guiding 
star.  As  we  travel  on,  beloved  companions  of  our 
pilgrimage  vanish  from  our  sight,  we  know  not 
whither ; and  our  bereaved  hearts  utter  cries  of  sup- 
plication for  more  light.  We  know  not  where 
Hermes  Trismegistus  lived,  or  who  he  was ; but  his 
voice  sounds  plaintively  human,  coming  up  from  the 


XX 


INTRODUCTION. 


depths  of  the  ages,  calling  out,  ‘ Thou  art  God  ! and 
thy  man  crieth  these  things  unto  Thee ! ’ Thus  closely 
allied  in  our  sorrows  and  limitations,  in  our  aspira- 
tions and  hopes,  surely  we  ought  not  to  be  separated 
in  our  sympathies.  However  various  the  names  by 
which  we  call  the  Heavenly  Father,  if  they  are  set  to 
music  by  brotherly  love,  they  can  all  be  sung  to- 
gether.” 

f Her  interest  in  the  welfare  of  the  emancipated 
class  at  the  South  and  of  the  ill-fated  Indians  of  the 
West  remained  unabated,  and  she  watched  with 
great  satisfaction  the  experiment  of  the  education  of 
both  classes  in  General  Armstrong’s  institution  at 
Hampton,  Va.  She  omitted  no  opportunity  of  aid- 
ing the  greatest  social  reform  of  the  age,  which  aims 
to  make  the  civil  and  political  rights  of  woman  equal 
to  those  of  men.  Her  sympathies,  to  the  last,  went 
out  instinctively  to  the  wronged  and  weak.  She  used 
to  excuse  her  vehemence  in  this  respect  by  laugh- 
ingly  quoting  lines  from  a poem  entitled  “ The  Un- 
der Dog  in  the  Fight  ” : — ' 

“ I know  that  the  world,  the  great  big  world, 

Will  never  a moment  stop 
To  see  which  dog  may  be  in  the  wrong, 

But  will  shout  for  the  dog  on  top. 

“ But  for  me  I never  shall  pause  to  ask 
Which  dog  may  be  in  the  right ; 

For  my  heart  will  heat,  while  it  beats  at  all. 

For  the  under  dog  in  the  fight.’’ 

I am  indebted  to  a gentleman  who  was  at  one  time 
a resident  of  Way  land,  and  who  enjoyed  her  confi- 
dence and  warm  friendship,  for  the  following  impres- 
sions of  her  life  in  that  place  : — 


INTRODUCTION. 


XXI 


“ On  one  of  the  last  beautiful  Indian  summer  afternoons, 
closing  the  past  year,  I drove  through  Wayland,  and  was 
anew  impressed  with  the  charm  of  our  friend’s  simple  exist- 
ence there.  The  tender  beauty  of  the  fading  year  seemed 
a reflection  of  her  own  gracious  spirit ; the  lovely  autumn 
of  her  life,  whose  golden  atmosphere  the  frosts  of  sorrow 
and  advancing  age  had  only  clarified  and  brightened. 

“ My  earliest  recollection  of  Mrs.  Child  in  Wayland  is  of 
a gentle  face  leaning  from  the  old  stage  window,  smiling 
kindly  down  on  the  childish  figures  beneath  her ; and  from 
that  moment  her  gracious  motherly  presence  has  been 
closely  associated  with  the  charm  of  rural  beauty  in  that 
village,  which  until  very  lately  has  been  quite  apart  from 
the  line  of  travel,  and  unspoiled  by  the  rush  and  worry  of 
our  modern  steam-car  mode  of  living. 

“ Mrs.  Child’s  life  in  the  place  made,  indeed,  an  atmos- 
phere of  its  own,  a benison  of  peace  and  good-will,  which 
was  a noticeable  feature  to  all  who  were  acquainted  with 
the  social  feeling  of  the  little  community,  refined,  as  it  was 
too,  by  the  elevating  influence  of  its  distinguished  pastor, 
Dr.  Sears.  Many  are  the  acts  of  loving  kindness  and  ma- 
ternal care  which  could  be  chronicled  of  her  residence  there, 
were  we  permitted  to  do  so ; and  numberless  are  the  lives 
that  have  gathered  their  onward  impulse  from  her  helping 
hand.  But  it  was  all  a confidence  which  she  hardly  be- 
trayed to  her  inmost  self,  and  I will  not  recall  instances 
which  might  be  her  grandest  eulogy.  Her  monument  is 
builded  in  the  hearts  which  knew  her  benefactions,  and  it 
will  abide  with  ‘ the  power  that  makes  for  righteousness.* 

“ One  of  the  pleasantest  elements  of  her  life  in  Wayland 
was  the  high  regard  she  won  from  the  people  of  the  village, 
who,  proud  of  her  literary  attainment,  valued  yet  more  the 
noble  womanhood  of  the  friend  who  dwelt  so  modestly 
among  them.  The  grandeur  of  her  exalted  personal  char- 
acter had,  in  part,  eclipsed  for  them  the  qualities  which 
made  her  fame  with  the  world  outside. 


xxii 


INTRODUCTION. 


“ The  little  house  on  the  quiet  by-road  overlooked  broad 
green  meadows.  The  pond  behind  it,  where  bloom  the  lilies 
whose  spotless  purity  may  well  symbolize  her  gentle  spirit, 
is  a sacred  pool  to  her  townsfolk.  But  perhaps  the  most 
fitting  similitude  of  her  life  in  Wayland  was  the  quiet  flow  of 
the  river,  whose  gentle  curves  make  green  her  meadows, 
but  whose  powerful  energy,  joining  the  floods  from  distant 
mountains,  moves,  with  resistless  might,  the  busy  shuttles 
of  a hundred  mills.  She  was  too  truthful  to  affect  to  wel- 
come unwarrantable  invaders  of  her  peace,  but  no  weary 
traveler  on  life’s  hard  ways  ever  applied  to  her  in  vain. 
The  little  garden  plot  before  her  door  was  a sacred  inclos- 
ure, not  to  be  rudely  intruded  upon  ; but  the  flowers  she 
tended  with  maternal  care  were  no  selfish  possession,  for 
her  own  enjoyment  only,  and  many  are  the  lives  their 
sweetness  has  gladdened  forever.  So  she  lived  among  a 
singularly  peaceful  and  intelligent  community  as  one  of 
themselves,  industrious,  wise,  and  happy  ; with  a frugality 
whose  motive  of  wider  benevolence  was  in  itself  a homily 
and  a benediction.” 

In  my  last  interview  with  her,  our  conversation,  as 
had  often  happened  before,  turned  upon  the  great 
theme  of  the  future  life.  She  spoke,  as  I remember, 
calmly  and  not  uncheerfully,  but  with  the  intense 
earnestness  and  reverent  curiosity  of  one  who  felt  al- 
ready the  shadow  of  the  unseen  world  resting  upon 
her. 

— Her  death  was  sudden  and  quite  unexpected.  For 
some  months  she  had  been  troubled  with  a rheumatic 
affection,  but  it  was  by  no  means  regarded  as  serious. 
A friend,  who  visited  her  a few  days  before  her  de- 
parture, found  her  in  a comfortable  condition,  apart 
from  lamejiess^She  talked  of  the  coming  election 
with  much  interest,  and  of  her  plans  for  the  winter. 
On  the  morning  of  her  death  (October  20,  1880)  she 


INTRODUCTION. 


XXlll 


spoke  of  feeling  remarkably  well.  Before  leaving  her 
chamber  she  complained  of  severe  pain  in  the  region 
of  the  heart.  Help  was  called  by  her  companion,  but 
only  reached  her  to  witness  her  quiet  passing  away. 

The  funeral  was,  as  befitted  one  like  her,  plain  and 
simple.  Many  of  her  old  friends  were  present,  and 
Wendell  Phillips  paid  an  affecting  and  eloquent  trib- 
ute to  his  old  friend  and  anti-slavery  coadjutor.  He 
referred  to  the  time  when  she  accepted,  with  serene 
self-sacrifice,  the  obloquy  which  her  “ Appeal  ” had 
brought  upon  her,  and  noted,  as  one  of  the  many  ways 
in  which  popular  hatred  was  manifested,  the  with- 
drawal from  her  of  the  privileges  of  the  Boston  Athe- 
naeum. Her  pall-bearers  were  elderly,  plain  farmers 
in  the  neighborhood  ; and,  led  by  the  old  white-haired 
undertaker,  the  procession  wound  its  way  to  the  not 
distant  burial-ground,  over  the  red  and  gold  of  fallen 
leaves,  and  under  the  half-clouded  October  sky.  A 
lover  of  all  beautiful  things,  she  was,  as  her  intimate 
friends  knew,  always  delighted  by  the  sight  of  rain- 
bows, and  used  to  so  arrange  prismatic  glasses  as  to 
throw  the  colors  on  the  walls  of  her  room.  Just  after 
her  body  was  consigned  to  the  earth,  a magnificent 
rainbow  spanned,  with  its  arc  of  glory,  the  eastern 
sky.i 

1 The  incident  at  her  burial  is  alluded  to  in  a Sonnet  written  by 
William  P.  Andrews  : — 

“ Fi’eedom ! she  knew  thy  summons,  and  obeyed 
That  clarion  voice  as  yet  scarce  heard  of  men ; 

Gladly  she  joined  thy  red-cross  service  when 
Honor  and  wealth  must  at  thy  feet  be  laid  : 

Onward  with  faith  undaunted,  undismayed 
By  threat  or  scorn,  she  toiled  with  hand  and  brain 
To  make  thy  cause  triumphant,  till  the  chain 
Lay  broken,  and  for  her  the  freedmen  prayed. 

Nor  yet  she  faltered ; in  her  tender  care 


XXIV 


INTRODUCTION. 


The  letters  in  this  collection  constitute  but  a small 
part  of  her  large  correspondence.  They  have  been 
gathered  up  and  arranged  by  the  hands  of  dear  rela- 
tives and  friends  as  a fitting  memorial  of  one  who 
wrote  from  the  heart  as  well  as  the  head,  and  who 

I held  her  literary  reputation  subordinate  always  to 
her  philanthropic  aim  to  lessen  the  sum  of  human 
suffering,  and  to  make  the  world  better  for  her  living. 
TF they  sometimes  show  the  heat  and  impatience  of  a 
zealous  reformer,  they  may  well  be  pardoned  in  con- 
sideration of  the  circumstances  under  which  they  were 
written,  and  of  the  natural  indignation  of  a gener- 
ous nature  in  view  of  wrong  and  oppression.  If  she 
touched  with  no  very  reverent  hand  the  garment 
hem  of  dogmas,  and  held  to  the  spirit  of  Scripture 
( rather  than  its  letter,  it  must  be  remembered  that  she 
\^lived  in  a time  when  the  Bible  was  cited  in  defense 
jpf  slavery,  as  it  is  now  in  Utah  in  support  of  polyg- 
^myj  and  she  may  well  be  excused  for  some  degree 
of  impatience  with  those  who,  in  the  tithing  of  mint 
and  anise  and  cummin,  neglected  the  weightier  mat- 
ters of  the  law  of  justice  and  mercy. 

Of  the  men  and  women  directly  associated  with 
the  beloved  subject  of  this  sketch,  but  few  are  now 
left  to  recall  her  single-hearted  devotion  to  appre- 
hended duty,  her  unselfish  generosity,  her  love  of  all 
beauty  and  harmony,  and  her  trustful  reverence,  free 
from  pretence  and  cant.  It  is  not  unlikely  that  the 
surviving  sharers  of  her  love  and  friendship  may  feel 
the  nadequateness  of  this  brief  imemorial,  for  I close 

She  took  us  all ; and  wheresoe’er  she  went, 

Blessings,  and  Faith  and  Beauty,  followed  there, 

E’en  to  the  end,  where  she  lay  down  content: 

And  with  the  gold  light  of  a life  more  fair. 

Twin  bows  of  promise  o’er  her  grave  were  blent.” 


INTRODUCTION. 


XXV 


it  with  the  consciousness  of  having  failed  to  fully  de- 
lineate the  picture  which  my  memory  holds  of  a wise 
and  brave,  but  tender  and  loving  woman,  of  whom  it 
might  well  have  been  said,  in  the  words  of  the  old 
Hebrew  text,  “ Many  daughters  have  done  virtu- 
ously, but  thou  excellest  them  all.” 


LETTERS. 


TO  REV.  CONYERS  FRANCIS. 

Norridgewock  [Maine],  June  5,  1817. 

My  dear  Brother, 1 — I have  been  busily  en- 
gaged in  reading  ‘‘  Paradise  Lost.”  Homer  hurried 
me  along  with  rapid  impetuosity  ; every  passion  that 
he  portrayed  I felt:  I loved,  hated,  and  resented,  just 
as  he  inspired  me ! But  when  I read  Milton,  I felt 
elevated  “ above  this  visible  diurnal  sphere.”  I 
could  not  but  admire  such  astonishing  grandeur  of 
description,  such  heavenly  sublimity  of  style.  I never 
read  a poem  that  displayed  a more  prolific  fancy,  or 
a more  vigorous  genius.  But  don’t  you  think  that 
Milton  asserts  the  superiority  of  his  own  sex  in  rather 
too  lordly  a manner?  Thus,  when  Eve  is  convers- 
ing with  Adam,  she  is  made  to  say,  — 

“ My  author  and  disposer,  what  thou  bid’st 
Unargu’d  I obey ; so  God  ordained. 

God  is  thy  law,  thou  mine : to  know  no  more 
Is  woman’s  happiest  knowledge,  and  her  praise.” 

Perhaps  you  will  smile  at  the  freedom  with  which 
I express  my  opinion  concerning  the  books  which  I 
have  been  reading.  I acknowledge  it  might  have  the 
appearance  of  pedantry,  if  I were  writing  to  any  one 
but  a brother ; when  I write  to  you,  I feel  perfectly 

^ This  letter,  the  earliest  received  by  the  compilers,  was  written  when 
Miss  Francis  was  fifteen  years  old. 

1 


2 


LETTERS. 


unrestrained  ; for  I feel  satisfied  that  you  will  excuse 
a little  freedom  of  expression  from  a sister,  who  will- 
ingly acknowledges  tlie  superiority  of  your  talents 
and  advantages,  and  who  fully  appreciates  your  con- 
descension and  kindness. 


TO  THE  SAME. 

Norridgewock,  September,  1817. 

I perceive  that  I never  shall  convert  you  to  my 
opinions  concerning  Milton’s  treatment  to  our  sex. 

Whether  the  ideas  I have  formed  of  that  author 
be  erroneous  or  not,  they  are  entirely  my  own.  I 
knew  Johnson  was  a violent  opponent  to  Milton, 
both  in  political  and  religious  concerns  ; but  I had 
never  seen,  or  heard,  of  any  of  his  remarks  upon  his 
poetical  productions.  Much  as  I admire  Milton,  I 
must  confess  that  Homer  is  a much  greater  favorite 
with  me.  “ Paradise  Lost”  is  unquestionably  the  sub- 
limest  effort  of  human  genius.  It  fixes  us  in  a state 
of  astonishment  and  wonder  ; but  it  is  not  character- 
ized by  that  impetuosity  and  animation  which,  I 
think,  gives  to  poetry  its  greatest  charm. 

TO  THE  SAME. 

February  3,  1819. 

I have  been  reading  “ Guy  Mannering.”  I admire 
it  for  its  originality.  Dominie  Sampson  is  certainly 
a character  that  never  had  a precedent.  Meg  Mer- 
rilies  has  something  of  that  wild  enthusiasm  which 
characterizes  the  wife  of  MacGregor ; and  there  is  a 
nameless  something  in  her  character  which  corre- 
sponds with  the  awful  grandeur  of  Highland  scenery. 

Don’t  you  think  that  the  spells  of  the  gypsy  and 
the  astrology  of  Mannering  might  have  considerable 


LETTERS. 


3 


effect  upon  the  superstitious  mind  by  being  left  en- 
tirely unaccounted  for  ? I should  be  almost  tempted 
to  leave  sober  history,  and  repair  to  these  Scottish 
novels  for  instruction,  as  well  as  amusement,  were 
not  the  historical  views  which  they  afford  almost 
entirely  confined  to  Scotland.  The  author  seems  to 
possess  great  versatility  of  talent.  Almost  all  the 
sciences  seem  to  have  had  a share  of  his  attention  ; 
and  his  observations  on  human  nature  seem  to  be 
peculiarly  accurate.  I think  I shall  go  to  Scotland 
(you  see  that  my  head  is  full  of  rocks  and  crags  and 
dark  blue  lakes ; however,  you  know  that  I mean 
Portsmouth)  very  soon.  I always  preferred  the  im- 
petuous grandeur  of  the  cataract  to  the  gentle  me- 
anderings  of  the  rill,  and  spite  of  all  that  is  said  about 
gentleness,  modesty,  and  timidity  in  the  heroine  of  a 
novel  or  poem,  give  me  the  mixture  of  pathos  and 
grandeur  exhibited  in  the  character  of  Meg  Mer- 
rilies  ; or  the  wild  dignity  of  Diana  Vernon,  with  all 
the  freedom  of  a Highland  maiden  in  her  step  and  in 
her  eye  ; or  the  ethereal  figure  Annot  Lyle,  — “ the 
lightest  and  most  fairy  figure  that  ever  trod  the  turf 
by  moonlight ; ” or  even  the  lofty  contempt  of  life 
and  danger  which,  though  not  unmixed  with  ferocity, 
throws  such  a peculiar  interest  around  Helen  Mac- 
Gregor. 

In  life  I am  aware  that  gentleness  and  modesty 
form  the  distinguished  ornaments  of  our  sex.  But 
in  description  they  cannot  captivate  the  imagination, 
nor  rivet  the  attention. 

Do  you  know  you  have  a great  many  questions  to 
answer  me  ? Do  not  forget  that  I asked  you  about 
the  “ flaming  cherubims,”  the  effects  of  distance, 
horizontal  or  perpendicular,  “ Orlando  Furioso,”  and 
Lord  Byron. 


4 


LETTERS. 


TO  THE  SAME. 

Norridgewock,  November  21,  1819. 

I have  long  indulged  the  hope  of  reading  Virgil 
in  his  own  tongue.  I have  not  yet  relinquished  it. 
I look  forward  to  a certain  time  when  I expect  that 
hope,  witli  many  others,  will  be  realized.  ...  I usu- 
ally spend  an  hour,  after  I retire  for  the  night,  in 
reading  Gibbon’s  “ Roman  Empire.”  The  pomp  of 
his  style  at  first  displeased  me  ; but  I think  him  an 
admirable  historian.  There  is  a degree  of  dignified 
elegance  about  this  work  which  I think  well  suited  to 
the  subject. 

TO  THE  SAME. 

Norridgewock,  December  26,  1819. 

I am  aware  that  I have  been  too  indolent  in  ex- 
amining the  systems  of  great  writers ; that  I have 
not  enough  cultivated  habits  of  thought  and  reflection 
upon  any  subject.  The  consequence  is,  my  imagina- 
tion has  ripened  before  my  judgment ; I have  quick- 
ness of  perception,  without  profoundness  of  thouglit ; 
I can  at  one  glance  take  in  a subject  as  displayed  by 
another,  but  I am  incapable  of  investigation.  What 
time  I have  found  since  I wrote  you  last  has  been 
pretty  much  employed  in  reading  Gibbon.  I have 
likewise  been  reading  Shakespeare.  I had  before 
taken  detached  views  of  the  works  of  this  great 
master  of  human  nature  ; but  had  never  before  read 
him.  What  a vigorous  grasp  of  intellect ; what  a 
glow  of  imagination  he  must  have  possessed ; but 
when  his  fancy  droops  a little,  how  apt  he  is  to  make 
low  attempts  at  wit,  and  introduce  a forced  play  upon 
words.  Had  he  been  an  American,  the  reviewers,  in 
spite  of  his  genius,  would  have  damned  him  for  his 


LETTERS. 


5 


contempt  of  the  unities.  It  provokes  me  to  see  these 
critics  with  their  pens  “ dipped  in  scorpion’s  gall,” 
blighting  the  embryo  buds  of  native  genius.  Neal 
must  be  condemned  forsooth,  without  mercy,  because 
his  poem  was  one  of  genius’  wildest,  most  erratic 
flights.  Were  every  one  as  devout  a worshipper  at 
the  shrine  of  genius  as  I am,  they  would  admire  him, 
even  in  his  wanderings.  I have  been  looking  over 
the  “ Spectator.”  I do  not  think  Addison  so  good  a 
writer  as  Johnson,  though  a more  polished  one.  The 
style  of  the  latter  is  more  vigorous,  there  is  more 
nerve,  if  I may  so  express  it,  than  in  the  former.  In- 
deed, Johnson  is  my  favorite  among  all  his  contem- 
poraries. I know  of  no  author  in  the  English  lan- 
guage that  writes  like  him. 

TO  THE  SAME. 

Winslow  [Maine],  March  12,  1820. 

I can’t  talk  about  books,  nor  anything  else,  until 
I tell  you  the  good  news  ; that  I leave  Norridgewock, 
and  take  a school  in  Gardiner,  as  soon  as  the  travel- 
ling is  tolerable.  When  I go  to  Gardiner,  remember 
to  write  often,  for  “ ’t  is  woman  alone  who  truly  feels 
what  it  is  to  be  a stranger.”  Did  you  know  that 
last  month  I entered  my  nineteenth  year  ? 

I hope,  my  dear  brother,  that  you  feel  as  happy  as 
I do.  Not  that  I have  formed  any  high-flown  ex- 
pectations. All  I expect  is,  that,  if  I am  industrious 
and  prudent  I shall  be  independent.  I love  to  feel 
like  Malcolm  Grseme  when  he  says  to  Allan  Bane, 

“ Tell  Roderick  Dhu  I owe  him  naught.’^ 

Have  you  seen  “ Ivanhoe  ” ? The  “ Shakespeare  of 
novelists  ” has  struck  out  a new  path  for  his  versa- 
tile and  daring  genius,  I understand.  Does  he  walk 


6 


LETTERS. 


with  such  elastic  and  lofty  tread  as  when  upon  his 
own  mountain  heath  ? Have  his  wings  expanded 
since  he  left  the  hills  of  Cheviot  ? Or  was  the  torch 
of  fanc}^  lighted  with  the  electric  spark  of  genius,  ex- 
tinguished in  the  waters  of  the  Tweed  ? I have  never 
seen  it.  Indeed  “ I have  na  ony  speerings  ” about  the 
literary  world,  except  through  the  medium  of  the  news- 
papers. I am  sorry  to  see  the  favored  son  of  genius 
handled  with  such  unmerciful,  though  perhaps  de- 
served, severity  in  the  review  of  “ Don  Juan.”  “ Lalla 
Rookh  ” is  the  last  I have  seen  from  the  pen  of  “ Im- 
agination’s Charter’d  Libertine.”  I hope  we  shall 
have  another  collection  of  gems  as  splendid,  and  more 
pure,  than  his  former  collections. 

TO  THE  SAME. 

Winslow,  April  10,  1820. 

I jmsterday  received  your  affectionate  letter.  You 
are  too  generous,  my  dear  Convers.  Ever  since  I en- 
tered my  nineteenth  year  I have  received  nothing  but 
presents  and  attention.  I never  was  more  happy  in 
my  life.  I never  possessed  such  unbounded  elasticity 
of  spirit.  It  seems  as  if  my  heart  would  vibrate  to 
no  touch  but  joy.  Like  old  Edie  Ochiltree  “I  wuss 
it  may  bode  me  gude.”  “ An  high  heart  goeth  before 
destruction,”  but  I never  heard  the  same  of  a light 
one. 

In  one  of  your  last  letters  you  promise  to  send  me 
“ Don  Juan.”  Do  not  send  it,  I beseech  you.  I can 
give  you  no  idea  of  the  anguish  I felt  when  I read 
this  shocking  specimen  of  fearless  and  hardened  de- 
pravity. I felt  as  if  a friend  had  betrayed  me.  A 
sensation  somewhat  similar  to  what  I should  have 
felt,  had  you,  my  dear  brother,  committed  an  action 


LETTERS. 


7 


nmvortliy  of  humanity.  I have  long  cherished  an 
enthusiastic  admiration  of  this  great  man  ; I have 
long  indulged  the  hope  that  when  the  blazing  solstice 
of  youth  was  over,  autumnal  reflection  would  shed  a 
lovelier,  though  less  brilliant,  light  upon  his  character  ; 
and  that  some  tie  might  be  found,  sacred  and  tender 
enough  to  sooth  the  bitter  misanthropy  of  his  feel- 
ings. But  with  deep  regret  I relinquish  the  hope 
forever.  Still  I cannot  but  admire  the  bold  efforts 
of  his  genius  that  flash  through  this  work  like  the 
horrid  glare  of  the  lightning  amid  the  terrors  of  a mid- 
night storm.  What  a pity  that  one  who  might  have 
shone,  the  most  brilliant  star  in  the  flaming  zodiac  of 
genius,  should  only  be  held  out  as  a blazing  beacon 
to  warn  others  from  the  road  to  wretchedness  and 
guilt.  It  is  intolerable  to  think  that  his  Pegasus  has 
still  to  gallop  over  twelve  more  cantos  of  such  hellish 
ground. 

TO  THE  SAME. 

Gardiner  [Maine],  May  31,  1820. 

You  need  not  fear  my  becoming  a Swedenborgian. 
I am  in  more  danger  of  wrecking  on  the  rocks  of 
skepticism  than  of  stranding  on  the  shoals  of  fanati- 
cism. I am  apt  to  regard  a system  of  religion  as  I do 
any  other  beautiful  theory.  It  plays  round  the  imag- 
ination, but  fails  to  reach  the  heart.  I wish  I could 
find  some  religion  in  which  my  heart  and  understand- 
ing could  unite ; that  amidst  the  darkest  clouds  of 
this  life  I might  ever  be  cheered  with  the  mild  halo 
of  religious  consolation.  With  respect  to  Paley’s  s}^s- 
tem,  I believe  I said  in  my  last  that  if  I admitted 
your  position,  the  next  step  was  to  acknowledge  the 
spontaneous  growth  of  goodness  in  the  human  heart. 
Is  this  what  you  did  not  understand  ? In  your  an- 


8 


LETTERS. 


swer  to  my  first  letter  on  the  subject,  you  say,  “ Is 
it  always  possible  to  foresee  all  the  remote  conse- 
quences of  an  action,  so  as  to  judge  whether  it  is 
expedient  or  not  ? And  even  if  it  were,  would  not 
the  time  for  action  be  past  before  we  came  to  the  de- 
cision ? ” In  answer  to  that  I made  the  above  men- 
tioned remark.  If  we  of  tentime  commit  good  actions 
without  time  to  reflect  on  their  tendency,  does  it  not 
argue  a natural  impulse  to  good  which  takes  root  in 
the  heart  before  we  have  time  to  calculate  its  growth  ? 
And  now  tell  me  plainly  what  system  would  you  build 
on  the  ruins  of  Paley’s  ? 

EXTRACTS  FROM  THE  JOURNAL  OF  MISS  FRANCIS,  KEPT 
WHEN  SHE  FIRST  MET  MR.  CHILD. 

December  2,  1824.  Mr.  Child  dined  with  us  at 
Watertown.  He  possesses  the  rich  fund  of  an  intelli- 
gent traveller  without  the  slightest  tinge  of  a travel- 
ler’s vanity.  Spoke  of  the  tardy  improvement  of  the 
useful  arts  in  Spain  and  Italy.  They  still  use  the 
plough  described  by  Virgil.  . . . 

January  26,  1825.  Saw  Mr.  Child  at  Mr.  Curtis’s. 
He  is  the  most  gallant  man  that  has  lived  since  the 
sixteenth  century  and  needs  nothing  but  helmet, 
shield,  and  chain  armor  to  make  him  a complete 
knight  of  chivalry. 

May  3,  1825.  One  among  the  many  delightful 
evenings  spent  with  Mr.  Child.  I do  not  know 
which  to  admire  most,  the  vigor  of  his  understanding 
or  the  ready  sparkle  of  his  wit.  Talked  of  the  polit- 
ical position  of  England.  Laughed  as  he  mentioned 
the  tremendous  squirearchy  of  America. 


LETTERS. 


9 


TO  REV.  DOCTOR  ALLYN,  DUXBURY,  MASS. 

Watertowst,  September  28,  1826. 

Dear  and  respected  Sir,  — Many  times  hath  the 
spirit  moved  me  to  address  thee  by  letter,  but  much 
fear  of  thy  wisdom  hath  hitherto  prevented.  It  is 
not  that  my  reverence  for  thee  hath  at  all  decreased, 
that  I now  take  up  my  pen  to  follow  my  own  inclina- 
tions, but  because  thine  absent  daughter  hath  im- 
posed it  upon  me  as  a duty.  Thou  knowest  well 
that  Si  Possum  is  not  always  more  heedful  of  the 
voice  of  conscience  than  of  her  own  will,  and  there- 
fore thou  wilt  conclude,  and  very  justly  withal,  that 
personal  affection  and  respect  for  thyself  doth  greatly 
move  her  thereunto. 

A plague  on  Quaker  style.  It  gives  my  pen  the 
numb  palsy  to  write  in  thees  and  thous.  You  have 
no  doubt  heard  from  Abba  often,  since  she  began  her 
journey.  I miss  them  sadly.  I come  home  from 
school,  tired  to  death  with  nouns  and  verbs,  and  I 
find  the  house  empty,  swept,  and  garnished,  with  not 
a single  indication  of  animated  existence  except  the 
cat,  who  sits  in  the  window  from  morning  till  night, 
winking  at  the  sun.  That  is  to  say,  when  the  sun  is 
to  be  winked  at ; for  during  the  whole  of  this  equi- 
noctial week,  the  skies  have  looked  like  a tub  of  cold 
suds.  The  only  variety  is  to  go  to  church  on  Sunday, 
and  hear  the  young  Cambridgians  talk  of  “ the  tur- 
pitude of  vice,  and  the  moral  dignity  of  virtue.” 

Do  I not  remember  your  sayings  well  ? By  the 
way,  have  you  determined  yet  whether  there  is  the 
most  of  good  or  evil  about  me  ? . . . 

What  do  you  do  with  yourself  in  these  days? 
Hold  high  converse  with  Plato,  or  feed  your  sheep 


10 


LETTERS. 


with  turnips?  Snarl  with  Diogenes,  or  laugh  at 
neighbor  Paris  and  his  Sampson’s  riddle  ? I wish  I 
could  pop  down  upon  you,  and  enjoy  one  or  two  quiet 
days,  but  quiet  does  not  seem  to  be  in  reserve  for  me. 
“ How  can  you  expect  it,”  you  will  say,  “ when  you 
are  always  engaged  on  some  mad-cap  enterprise  or 
other  ? When  Hobomoks,  Rebels,  Miscellanies,  suc- 
ceed each  other,  thick  as  hail  ? ” 

Do  you  remember.  Doctor  Allyn,  that  four  years 
ago  you  promised  me  a long  letter  ? An  honest  man 
will  never  refuse  to  pay  an  outlawed  debt. 

IMy  Miscellany  succeeds  far  beyond  my  most  san- 
guine expectations.  That  is,  people  are  generous  be- 
yond my  hopes. 


TO  DAVID  LEE  CHILD. 

Phillips  Beach  [Mass.],  Sunday  evening,  August  8,  1830. 

Dearest  Husband,^  — Here  I am  in  a snug  little 
old-fashioned  parlor,  at  a round  table,  in  a rocking- 
chair,  writing  to  you,  and  the  greatest  comfort  I have 
is  the  pen-knife  yon  sharpened  for  me  just  before  I 
came  away.  As  you  tell  me  sometimes,  it  makes 
my  heart  leap  to  see  anything  you  have  touched. 
The  house  here  is  real  old-fashioned,  neat,  comfort- 
able, rural,  and  quiet.  There  is  a homespun  striped 
carpet  upon  the  floor,  two  profiles  over  the  mantle- 
piece,  one  of  them  a soldier  placed  in  a frame  rather 
one-sided,  with  a white  shirt  ruffle,  a white  plume, 
and  a white  epaulette ; a vase  of  flowers  done  in 
water  colors,  looking  sickly  and  straggling  about  as 
if  they  were  only  neighbors-in-law,  and  Ophelia 
with  n quantity  of  “ carrotty  ” hair,  which  is  thrown 

1 Miss  Francis  was  married  to  David  Lee  Cliild,  of  Boston,  October 
19,  1828. 


LETTERS. 


11 


over  three  or  four  rheumatic  trees,  and  one  foot  ankle 
deep  in  water,  as  if  she  were  going  to  see  which  she 
liked  best,  hanging  or  drowning. 

These,  with  an  old-fashioned  table  and  desk,  form  a 
schedule  of  the  furniture.  The  old  lady  is  just  like 
your  good  mother,  just  such  honest  shoulders,  just 
such  motions,  a face  very  much  like  hers,  and  precisely 
the  same  kind  motherly  ways.  I am  sure  you  would 
be  struck  with  the  resemblance.  I like  the  whole 
family  extremely.  They  are  among  the  best  speci- 
mens of  New  England  farmers,  as  simple  and  as 
kind  as  little  children.  The  food  is  excellent.  . . . 
In  the  stillness  of  the  evening  we  can  hear  the  sea 
dashing  on  the  beach,  “rolling  its  eternal  bass” 
amid  the  harmony  of  nature.  I went  down  to  a 
little  cove  between  two  lines  of  rocks  this  morning, 
and  having  taken  off  my  stockings,  I let  the  saucy 
waves  come  dashing  and  sparkling  into  my  lap.  I 
was  a little  sad,  because  it  made  me  think  of  the 
beautiful  time  we  had,  when  we  washed  our  feet 
together  in  the  mountain  waterfall.  How  I do  wish 
you  were  here  ! It  is  nonsense  for  me  to  go  a “ pleas- 
uring ” without  you.  It  does  me  no  good,  and  every 
pleasant  sight  makes  my  heart  yearn  for  you  to  be 
with  me.  I am  very  homesick  for  you  ; and  my 
private  opinion  is,  that  I shall  not  be  able  to  stand  it 
a whole  week.  As  for  the  place  itself,  it  is  exactly 
what  I wanted  to  find.  Oh,  how  I do  wish  we  had  a 
snug  little  cottage  here,  and  just  income  enough  to 
meet  very  moderate  wants.  I have  walked  about  a 
mile  to-day,  and  got  well  mudded  by  plunging  into  a 
meadow  after  that  brightest  of  all  bright  blossoms, 
the  cardinal  flower.  My  dear  husband,  I cannot  stay 
away  a week. 


12 


LETTERS. 


TO  MISS  SARAH  SHAW,  UPON  RECEIVING  A DONATION  TO 
THE  ANTI-SLAVERY  CAUSE. 

1833. 

Your  very  unexpected  donation  was  most  grate- 
fully received,  though  I was  at  first  reluctant  to  take 
it,  lest  our  amiable  young  friend  had  directly  or  in- 
directly begged  the  favor. 

I am  so  great  an  advocate  of  individual  freedom 
that  I would  have  everything  done  voluntarily,  noth- 

ing  by  persuasion.  But  Mi8s  S assures  me  that 

you  gave  of  your  own  accord,  and  this,  though  very 
unexpected,  surprised  me  less  than  it  would  if  I had 
not  so  frequently  heard  your  brother  speak  of  the 
kindness  of  your  disposition. 

We  have  good  encouragement  of  success  in  the 
humble  and  unostentatious  undertaking  to  which  you 
have  contributed.  The  zeal  of  a few  seems  likely  to 
counterbalance  the  apathy  of  the  many. 

Posterity  will  marvel  at  the  hardness  of  our  preju- 
dice on  this  subject,  as  we  marvel  at  the  learned  and 
conscientious  believers  in  the  Salem  witchcraft.  So 
easy  is  it  to  see  the  errors  of  past  ages,  so  difficult  to 
acknowledge  our  own  ! 

With  the  kindest  wishes  for  your  happiness  and 
prosperity. 


TO  REV.  CONVERS  FRANCIS. 

Boston,  November  22,  1833. 

That  most  agreeable  of  all  agreeable  men,  Mr. 
Crawford  of  London,  was  here  last  night. 

He  tells  harrowing  stories  of  what  he  has  seen  at 
the  South  during  his  inspection  of  prisons  there. 
Slaves  kept  in  readiness  to  join  their  coffie  were  shut 


LETTERS.  13 

up  in  places  too  loathsome  and  horrid  for  the  worst 
of  criminals. 

He  says  had  any  one  told  him  such  things  as  he 
has  seen  and  heard,  he  should  have  considered  it  ex- 
cessive exaggeration.  Yet  we  talk  of  mild  epithets, 
and  tenderness  toward  our  Southern  brethren.  Curse 
on  the  “ smooth  barbarity  of  courts.”  Of  the  various 
cants  now  in  fashion,  the  cant  of  charity  is  to  me  the 
most  disagreeable.  Charity,  which  thinks  to  make 
wrong  right  by  baptizing  it  with  a sonorous  name  ; 
that  covers  selfishness  with  the  decent  mantle  of  pru- 
dence ; that  glosses  over  iniquity  with  the  shining 
varnish  of  virtuous  professions  ; that  makes  a garland 
bridge  over  the  bottomless  pit,  and  calls  the  devil  an 
“ Archangel  ruined.” 

If  evil  would  manifest  itself  as  it  really  is,  how 
easy  it  would  be  to  overcome  it ; but  this  it  cannot 
do,  simply  because  it  is  evil. 

TO  THE  SAME. 

Boston,  July  27,  1834. 

I have  at  last  obtained  the  “ Christian  Examiner,” 
and  read  your  article.  As  the  old  Quaker  wrote  me 
about  the  “ Mother’s  Book,”  “ I am  free  to  say  to  thee, 
it  is  a most  excellent  thing.”  I think  I never  read 
a better  article  in  my  life ; not  even  excepting  the 
“ Edinburgh.”  I was  delighted  with  it. 

You  bow  most  reverently  to  Wordsworth,  “ that 
great  poet,”  that  confidant  of  angels,”  as  Lavater  says 
of  Klopstock.  Did  not  your  conscience  twinge  you 
for  throwing  Peter  Bell  and  the  Idiot  Boy  in  my 
teeth  so  often,  and  for  laughing  me  to  scorn  when  I 
said  Milton’s  fame  was  the  sure  inheritance  of  Words- 
worth ? 


14 


LETTERS. 


I was  glad  for  wliat  yon  said  concerning  tlie  state 
of  the  affections  with  regard  to  the  perception  of 
elevated  truths. 

I believe  the  more  yon  look  inward  the  more  yon 
will  be  convinced  of  the  truth  of  what  yon  advanced 
on  that  point,  and  that,  too,  not  merely  in  a general 
point  of  view,  bnt  as  applied  to  yonr  own  mind,  and 
the  different  states  of  yonr  own  mind.  When  wish- 
ing to  defend  a truth  merely  from  the  love  of  intel- 
lectual power,  or  for  the  sake  of  appearing  superior 
to  some  other  person,  I have  felt  my  mind  darkened, 
a thick  fog  arose,  and  scarcely  one  fine  edge  of  light 
gave  token  of  the  glories  I had  hidden  from  myself  : 
bnt  while  sitting  in  my  own  apartment,  looking  ont 
npon  the  water  or  the  heavens,  or,  in  childish  mood, 
watching  the  perpetual  motion  of  the  doves  opposite 
my  window,  nnconscions  (as  the  “ Edinburgh  ” says) 
of  the  existence  of  any  of  the  little  passions  and  im- 
pure motives  which  at  once  blind  and  harass  the  in- 
tellect, in  such  a state  of  feeling,  the  same  truth,  that 
I had  before  lost  in  darkness,  is  written  on  the  mind 
with  the  power  and  certainty  of  a sunbeam  ; and  to 
doubt  it  would  appear  to  me  as  insane  as  to  require 
proof  that  the  moon  is  not  an  optical  delusion. 

I believe  there  can  be  no  real  religion  where  reason 
does  not  perform  her  high  and  very  important  office, 
but  here  again  comes  the  important  point,  reason 
cannot  do  her  perfect  work  unless  the  affections  are 
pure.  If  we  wish  a thing  to  be  true,  or  to  make  it 
appear  true,  for  the  sake  of  our  party  or  our  theory, 
or  because  it  gives  us  an  apparent  superiority  in 
morals,  in  intellect,  — in  a word,  if  self  mingles  with 
the  motive,  “ the  tree  of  knowledge  is  not  the  tree  of 
life.”  We  may  imagine  that  it  makes  us  as  gods, 


LETTERS.  15 

knowing  good  from  eyil,  “ but  the  moment  we  eat 
thereof,  we  shall  surely  die.” 

I believe  it  is  more  safe  and  useful  to  dwell  upon 
the  necessity  of  keeping  the  heart  pure,  than  of  en- 
lightening the  understanding.  An  uneducated  man 
can  more  safely  trust  to  his  conscience  than  to  his 
understanding. 

TO  MRS.  ELLIS  GRAY  LORING. 

New  York,  August  15,  1835. 

I am  at  Brooklyn,  at  the  house  of  a very  hospitable 
Englishman,  a friend  of  Mr.  Thompson’s.  I have  not 
ventured  into  the  city,  nor  does  one  of  us  dare  to  go  to 
church  to-day,  so  great  is  the  excitement  here.  You 
can  form  no  conception  of  it.  ’T  is  like  the  times 
of  the  French  Revolution,  when  no  man  dared  trust 
his  neighbors.  Private  assassins  from  New  Orleans 
are  lurking  at  the  corners  of  the  streets,  to  stab 
Arthur  Tappan  ; and  very  large  sums  are  offered  for 
any  one  who  will  convey  Mr.  Thompson  into  the 
Slave  States.  I tremble  for  him,  and  love  him  in  pro- 
portion to  my  fears.  He  is  almost  a close  prisoner 
in  his  chamber,  his  friends  deeming  him  in  imminent 
peril  the  moment  it  is  ascertained  where  he  is.  We 
have  managed  with  some  adroitness  to  get  along  in 
safety  so  far  ; but  I have  faith  tliat  God  will  pro- 
tect him,  even  to  the  end.  Yet  why  do  I make  this 
boast  ? My  faith  has  at  times  been  so  weak  that  I 
have  started  and  trembled  and  wept,  like  a very 
child ; and  personal  respect  and  affection  for  him 
have  so  far  gained  the  mastery  over  my  trust  in 
Providence,  that  I have  exclaimed  in  anguish  of 
heart,  “ Would  to  God,  I could  die  for  thee  ! ” Your 
husband  could  hardly  be  made  to  realize  the  terrible 


16 


LETTERS, 


state  of  fermentation  now  existing  here.  There  are 
7,000  Southerners  now  in  the  city  ; and  I am  afraid 
there  are  not  700  among  them  who  have  the  slightest 
fear  of  God  before  their  eyes.  Mr.  Wright  was  yes- 
terday barricading  his  doors  and  windows  with  strong 
bars  and  planks  an  inch  thick.  Violence,  in  some 
form,  seems  to  be  generally  expected.  Alas  poor 
fools  ! They  are  building  up  the  very  cause  they 
seek  to  destroy. 

TO  REV.  CONVERS  FRANCIS. 

New  Rochelle  [N.  Y.],  September  25,  1835. 

We  are  boarding  in  the  family  of  an  honest  Hick- 
site  Quaker,  in  this  quiet  secluded  village,  which  we 
chose  both  for  economy  and  safe  distance  from  cities. 
There  is  nothing  in  the  neighborhood  worthy  of  a 
traveller’s  attention  except  the  grave  of  Tom  Paine, 
in  the  corner  of  a field,  near  the  road-side.  It  is  sur- 
rounded by  a rough  stone  wall,  two  or  three  feet  high. 
In  one  place  the  stones  are  broken  down  and  lying 
loose,  where  Cobbett  entered  to  carry  off  his  bones. 
He  was  buried  in  this  lonely  manner,  because  all 
the  churches,  and  even  the  Quakers,  refused  him  ad- 
mittance into  their  burying-grounds.  And  we  who 
boast  of  living  in  a more  liberal  age,  are  carrying  on 
the  same  petty  persecution  under  different  forms  ! 

I agree  with  you  most  cordially  that  man,  without 
a “ principle  of  reverence  for  something  higher  than 
his  own  will,  is  a poor  and  wretched  being  ; ” but  I 
would  have  that  reverence  placed  on  principles,  not 
on  persons  ; and  this  in  a true  republic  would,  1 be- 
lieve, be  the  case.  I believe  our  difficulties  grow  out 
of  the  fact  that  we  have  in  reality  very  little  repub- 
licanism. A principle  of  despotism  was  admitted  in 


LETTERS. 


17 


the  very  formation  of  our  government,  to  sanction 
which  our  consciences  have  been  continually  silenced 
and  seared.  In  our  social  institutions,  aristocracy  has 
largely  mingled.  The  opinion  of  a great  man  stands 
in  the  place  of  truth;  and  thus  the  power  of  per- 
ceiving truth  is  lost.  We  should  be  little  troubled 
with  mobs  if  people  called  respectable  did  not  give 
them  their  sanction.  But  you  will  say  a true  repub- 
lic never  can  exist.  In  this,  I have  more  faith  than 
you.  I believe  the  world  will  be  brought  into  a state 
of  order  through  manifold  revolutions.  Sometimes 
we  may  be  tempted  to  think  it  would  have  been 
better  for  us  not  to  have  been  cast  on  these  evil 
times  ; but  this  is  a selfish  consideration  ; we  ought 
rather  to  rejoice  that  we  have  much  to  do  as  me- 
diums in  the  regeneration  of  the  world.  . . . 

You  ask  me  to  be  prudent,  and  I will  be  so,  as  far 
as  is  consistent  with  a sense  of  duty ; but  this  will 
not  be  what  the  world  calls  prudent.  Firmness  is  the 
virtue  most  needed  in  times  of  excitement.  What 
consequence  is  it  if  a few  individuals  do  sink  to  un- 
timely and  dishonored  graves,  if  the  progress  of  great 
principles  is  still  onward?  Perchance  for  this  cause 
came  we  into  the  world. 

I have  examined  the  history  of  the  slave  too 
thoroughly,  and  felt  his  wrongs  too  deeply,  to  be 
prudent  in  the  worldly  sense  of  the  term.  I know 
too  well  the  cruel  and  wicked  mockery  contained  in 
all  the  excuses  and  palliations  of  the  system. 

TO  THE  SAME. 

New  Rochelle,  December  19,  1835. 

In  your  last  letter  you  charge  democracy  with  be- 
ing the  mother  of  evil.  I do  not  wonder  at  it ; for 
2 


18 


LETTERS. 


these  are  times  when  its  best  friends  have  need  of 
faith.  But  I believe  the  difficulty  ever  is  in  a lack 
of  republicanism.  The  aristocratic  principle,  unable 
to  act  openly,  disguises  itself,  and  sends  its  poison 
from  under  a mask.  What  is  the  root  of  the  diffi- 
culty on  this  great  question  of  abolition?  It  is  not 
with  the  farmers,  it  is  not  with  the  mechanics.  The 
majority  of  their  voices  would  be  on  the  right  side  if 
the  question  were  fairly  brought  before  them  ; and 
the  consciousness  that  such  would  be  the  result 
creates  the  earnest  desire  to  stop  discussion.  No, 
no  ! It  is  not  these  who  are  to  blame  for  the  perse- 
cution suffered  by  abolitionists.  Manufacturers  who 
supply  the  South,  merchants  who  trade  with  the 
South,  politicians  who  trade  with  the  South,  minis- 
ters settled  at  the  South,  and  editors  patronized  by 
the  South,  are  the  ones  who  really  promote  mobs. 
Withdraw  the  aristocratic  influence,  and  I should  be 
perfectly  easy  to  trust  the  cause  to  the  good  feeling 
of  the  people.  But,  you  will  say,  democracies  must 
always  be  thus  acted  upon  ; and  here,  I grant,  is  the 
great  stumbling-block.  The  impediments  continu- 
ally in  the  way  of  bringing  good  principles  into  their 
appropriate  forms  are  almost  disheartening ; and 
would  be  quite  so,  were  it  not  for  the  belief  in  One 
who  is  brooding  over  this  moral  chaos  with  vivify- 
ing and  regenerating  power.  Wkat  can  be  more 
beautiful  than  the  spirit  of  love  in  the  Christian  re- 
ligion ? Yet  where  shall  we  And  Moslem  or  pagan 
more  flerce  and  unrelenting  than  Christians  toward 
each  other. 


LETTERS. 


19 


TO  E.  CARPENTER. 

West  Boylston  [Mass.],  May  9,  1836. 

Abolitionism  is  rapidly  growing  respectable  here, 
because  the  abolitionists  are  becoming  more  and  more 
numerous.  Since  truth  is  thus  made  to  depend  on  the 
voice  of  the  majority,  what  a comfort  it  is  to  reflect 
tliat  all  majorities  were  minorities  in  the  beginning. 

I cannot  forbear  to  repeat  to  you  an  interview  be- 
tween Miss  Martmeau  and  Mrs.  , formerly  a 

fashionable  friend  of  mine,  deeply  skilled  in  the  small 

diplomacy  of  worldly  wisdom.  Mrs. said  some 

things  in  disparagement  of  Maria  Chapman,  accom- 
panied with  the  wise  remark  that  women  were  not 
capable  of  understanding  political  questions.  My 

friend  Mrs.  , wishing  Miss  M.  to  take  tip  the 

cudgel  in  defence  of  the  rights  of  women,  put  her 

mouth  to  her  ear-trumpet,  and  said,  “ Ask  Mrs. 

to  repeat  her  remark  to  you  ! ” The  lady  somewhat 
reluctantly  observed,  “ I was  saying.  Miss  M.,  that 
women  ought  to  attend  to  their  little  duties,  and  let 
public  affairs  alone.”  “ Believe  me.  Madam,”  re- 
plied Miss  M.,  “ that  those  who  perform  their  great 
duties  best  are  most  likely  to  perform  their  little' 
duties  best.”  “ Oh,  certainly,  of  course,  ” said  Mrs. 

, “ but  Mrs.  C.  is  so  enthusiastic.  She  told  me 

she  felt  she  had  a mission  to  perform  on  earth.  Now, 
if  I felt  so,  I should  think  I ought  to  be  sent  to 
Bedlam.”  “ Madam,”  replied  Miss  M.,  “ it  appears 
to  me  that  those  of  us  who  think  we  have  no  mis- 
sion to  perform  on  earth  ought  to  be  sent  to  Bed- 
lam.” 


20 


LETTERS. 


TO  THE  SAME. 

South  Natick,  September  4,  1836. 

I have  lately  had  a most  interesting  case  brought 
under  iny  observation.  When  in  Boston  I was  en- 
treated to  exert  myself  concerning  a little  child,  sup- 
posed to  be  a slave,  brought  from  New  Orleans,  and 
kept  shut  lip  at  No.  21  Pinckney  Street.  The  object 
was  to  persuade  the  child’s  mistress  to  leave  her  at 
the  colored  asylum,  and  failing  to  effect  this  object, 
to  ascertain  beyond  doubt  whether  the  child  was  a 
slave,  whether  there  was  intention  to  carry  her  back 
to  New  Orleans,  and  to  obtain  sight  of  her  in  order 

to  be  able  to  prove  her  identity I will  not 

fill  tills  sheet  with  particulars.  Suffice  it  to  say,  the 
way  Avas  opened  for  us.  We  obtained  all  the  evi- 
dence we  wanted,  carried  it  to  a lawyer,  who  peti- 
tioned fora  writ  of  habeas  corpus  ; the  judge  granted 
the  petition  ; and  the  man  who  held  little  Med  in 
custody  Avas  brought  up  for  trial.  In  consequence  of 
the  amount  of  evidence  ready  to  be  proved  by  three 
Avitnesses,  the  pro-slavery  lawyers  did  not  pretend  to 
deny  that  the  intent  was  to  carry  the  child  back  into 
slavery  ; but  they  took  the  new  and  extraordinary 
ground  that  Southern  masters  had  a legal  right  to 
hold  human  beings  as  slaves  Avhile  they  were  visiting 
here  in  NeAv  England.  Judge  Wild  expressed  a wish 
to  consult  Avith  the  other  judges  ; and  our  abolition 
friends,  finding  the  case  turn  on  such  a very  impor- 
tant point,  resolved  to  retain  the  services  of  Webster, 
for  Avant  of  a better  man.  He  Avas  willing  to  serve, 
provided  they  Avould  wait  a few  days.  Rufus  Choate, 
a man  only  second  to  him  in  abilities,  and  whose 
heart  is  strongly  favorable  to  anti-slavery,  was  em- 


LETTERS. 


21 


ployed. 1 The  opposite  counsel  were  full  of  sophistry 
and  eloquence.  One  of  them  really  wiped  his  own 
eyes  at  the  thought  that  the  poor  little  slave  might 
be  separated  from  its  slave  mother  by  mistaken  benev- 
olence. His  pathos  was  a little  marred  by  my  friend 
E.  G.  Loring,  who  arose  and  stated  that  it  was  dis- 
tinctly understood  that  little  Med  was  to  be  sold  on 
her  way  back  to  New  Orleans,  to  pay  the  expenses  of 
her  mistress’s  journey  to  the  North.  The  judges  de- 
cided unanimously  in  favor  of  Med  and  liberty  ! 

The  “ Commercial  Gazette  ” of  the  next  day  says : 
“ This  decision,  though  unquestionably  according  to 
law,  is  much  to  be  regretted ; for  such  cases  cannot 
but  injure  the  custom  of  our  hotels,  now  so  liberally 
patronized  by  gentlemen  from  the  South.”  Verily, 
Sir  Editor,  thou  art  an  honest  devil ; and  I thank 
thee  for  not  being  at  the  pains  to  conceal  thy  cloven 
foot. 

TO  REV.  CONVERS  FRANCIS. 

Boston,  October  25,  1836, 

I am  very  glad  that  you  liked  “ Philothea,”  and 
that  the  dedication  pleased  you.  Among  my  personal 
friends  the  book  has  proved  far  more  of  a favorite 
than  I had  supposed  it  would.  I have  heard  the  echo 
of  newspaper  praise,  but  have  not  in  fact  seen  a single 
notice  of  “ Philothea.”  For  my  own  sake,  I care  far 
less  about  literary  success  than  I could  easily  make 
people  believe  ; but  I am  glad  if  this  work  adds  to 
my  reputation,  because  it  will  help  to  increase  my 
influence  in  the  anti-slavery  cause.  It  will  be  an- 
other mite  added  to  the  widow’s  fund  for  the  treasury 

1 The  expectations  thus  excited  that  Mr.  Choate  would  become  an 
opponent  of  slavery  were  doomed  to  disappointment ; during  the  latter 
years  of  his  life  he  was  utterly  hostile  to  the  anti-slavery  movement. 


22 


LETTERS. 


of  the  Lord.  Every  day  that  I live,  I feel  more  and 
more  thankful  for  my  deep  interest  in  a cause  which 
cj^rries  me  out  of  myself. 

TO  E.  CARPENTER. 

Northampton  [Mass.],  September  6,  1838. 

When  I remember  what  a remarkable  testimony 
the  early  Friends  bore  (a  testimony  which  seems  to 
me  more  and  more  miraculous,  the  more  I compare  it 
with  the  spirit  of  the  age  in  which  they  lived),  I could 
almost  find  it  in  my  heart  to  weep  at  the  too  palpable 
proofs  that  little  now  remains  of  that  which  was  full 
of  life.i  I was  saying  this,  last  winter,  to  George  Rip- 
ley, a Unitarian  minister  of  Boston.  He  replied  beau- 
tifully, “ Mourn  not  over  their  lifelessness.  Truly  the 
dead  form  alone  remains ; but  the  spirit  that  em- 
anated from  it  is  not  dead,  the  ivord  which  they  spake 
has  gone  out  silently  into  everlasting  time.  What 
are  these  Temperance,  and  Peace,  and  Anti-Slavery 
Conventions,  but  a resuscitation  of  their  principles  ? 
To  me  it  is  a beautiful  illustration  of  the  doctrine  of 
the  resurrection,  when  I thus  see  the  spirit  leaving 
the  dead  form  and  embodying  itself  anew.” 

I feel  for  your  trials,  for  I know  by  similar  ex- 
perience that  at  times  they  will  press  heavily  on  the 
overtaxed  and  discouraged  soul.  But  we  know  what 
awaits  those  “ who  endure  unto  the  end.”  I cannot 
say  I pity  you  ; for  is  it  not  a glorious  privilege  thus 
to  struggle  with  the  errors  and  sins  of  the  time  ? Be 
not  discouraged  because  the  sphere  of  action  seems 

1 This  letter  refers  to  the  opposition  to  active  anti-slavery  effort 
manifested  by  the  New  York  yearly  meeting  of  Friends  of  what  is 
called  the  Hicksite  division.  On  the  Orthodox  side  there  was  the 
same  disposition  to  discountenance  decided  abolition  labors,  although 
both  societies  professed  to  maintain  a testimony  against  slavery. 


LETTERS. 


23 


narrow,  and  the  influence  limited  ; for  every  word 
and  act  that  a human  being  sends  forth  lives  forever. 
It  is  a spiritual  seed  cast  into  the  wide  field  of  opinion. 
Its  results  are  too  infinite  for  human  calculation.  It 
will  appear  and  reappear  through  all  time,  always  in- 
fluencing the  destiny  of  the  human  race  for  good  or 
for  evil.  Has  not  the  one  idea  that  rose  silently  in 
Elizabeth  Heyrick’s  ^ mind  spread,  until  it  has  al- 
most become  a World’s  idea  ? Have  not  the  “stern 
old  Calvinists  of  Charles’s  time,”  despised  as  they 
were,  given  their  character  to  nations?  Who  can 
predict  the  whole  effect  on  habit  and  opinion  in  New 
Rochelle,  fifty  years  hence,  of  the  spiritual  warfare 
now  going  on  in  half  of  a small  meeting-house,  in  that 
secluded  village  ? To  a philosophical  mind,  nothing 
that  concerns  the  soul  of  man  can  be  small  or  limited. 
However  humble  its  fprin,  it  is  linked  with  infinity. 
Tell  your  good  father  my  “ prayers  ” he  shall  have  ; 
but  not  my  “ tears.”  Could  he  have  wept  for  Lu- 
ther when  he  stood  before  principalities  and  powers, 
at  the  Diet  of  Worms,  and  calmly  declared,  “It  is 
neither  safe  nor  prudent  to  do  aught  against  con- 
science. Here  stand  I.  I cannot  otherwise,  God 
assist  me.  Amen.”  It  is  odd  enough  that  while  the 
plain  Quakers  of  New  Rochelle  are  making  such  a 
fuss  about  colored  people  sitting  on  the  same  floor 
with  them,  the  King  of  France  makes  no  objection  to 
having  sons  in  the  same  school  with  black  boys. 

1 To  Elizabeth  Heyrick,  of  England,  a member  of  the  Society  of 
Friends,  belongs  the  honor  of  having  been  the  first  to  promulgate,  in 
a pamphlet  published  by  her  in  1825,  the  doctrine  of  “Immediate, 
not  Gradual  Emancipation/'  The  abolitionists  of  Great  Britain,  then 
struggling  for  the  overthrow  of  slaverv  in  the  West  Indies,  speedily 
adopted  it  as  their  key-note  and  cry,  and  Mr.  Garrison,  in  establishing 
the  Liberator,  declared  it  to  be  the  only  impregnable  position  to  as- 
sume in  agitating  for  the  abolition  of  slavery  everywhere. 


24 


LETTERS. 


TO  MISS  HENRIETTA  SARGENT. 

South  Natick,  November  13,  1836. 

I suppose  you  heard  of  me  on  my  way  to  Doctor 
Channing’s  ? 

I found  the  reverend  Doctor  walking  down  Mount 
Vernon  Street,  but  he  insisted  so  strongly  upon  going 
back,  that  I at  last  consented.  He  was  very  kind 
and  complimentary,  in  manners  and  conversation. 
He  soon  began  to  talk  of  anti-slavery.  I could  see 
that  he  had  progressed  (as  we  Yankees  say)  con- 
siderably since  I last  conversed  with  him  ; but  he 
still  betrayed  his  characteristic  timidity.  Almost 
every  sentence  began  with,  “ I am  doubtful,”  or  “ I 
am  afraid.”  He  was  “ doubtful  ” of  the  policy  of 
sending  out  seventy  agents.  He  was  “ afraid  ” there 
would  be  among  them  some  indifferent  men.  I told 
him  that  they  gave  pretty  good  evidence  they  were 
not  indifferent  to  the  cause.  He  did  not  mean  that, 
he  meant  there  would  be  some  among  them  of  indif- 
ferent intellectual  and  moral  gifts.  I urged  that 
their  willingness  to  go  was  strong  presumptive  evi- 
dence in  favor  of  their  moral  character ; and  ex- 
pressed a reasonable  doubt  whether  the  seventy  sent 
out  by  the  apostles  were  all  equally  gifted.  He  re- 
plied, “ But  they  went  out  on  a very  simple  errand.” 
I rejoined,  “ And  the  abolitionists  go  out  on  a very 
simple  errand.  Their  principles  are  a resuscitation 
of  doctrines  preached  by  the  apostolic  seventy.”  He 
admitted  that  the  foundation  principles  of  Chris- 
tianity and  abolition  were  identical ; but  still  this 
subject  was  so  intertwisted  with  politics,  prejudice, 
and  interest,  and  the  manner  of  illustrating  it  might 
be  so  injudicious,  that  he  thought  it  every  way  de- 


LETTERS. 


25 


sirable  to  have  agents  peculiarly  qualified.  I an- 
swered that  we  had  good  reason  to  suppose  the  early 
opposition  to  Christianity  was  interwoven  with  the 
prejudices  and  interests  of  nations.  If  it  were  not 
• so,  why  had  the  apostles  been  persecuted  even  unto 
death  ? We,  like  the  apostles,  could  only  choose  the 
willing-hearted,  and  trust  that  God  would  bless  their 
mission.  Even  if  it  were  desirable  to  select  the  “ wise 
and  prudent  ” of  this  world,  there  was  abundant 
reason  to  suppose  that  now,  as  then,  they  would  not 
be  in  readiness  to  perform  the  Lord’s  mission. 

I do  not  know  how  much  longer  we  might  have 
“ argufied  ” about  the  seventy,  if  Ave  had  not  been 
interrupted  by  Mrs.  M.,  who  was  soon  followed  by 
several  other  ladies.  From  courtesy  I forebore  to 
renew  a subject  which  might  be  embarrassing  to 
mine  host,  in  the  presence  of  visitors  who  doubtless 
would  not  so  much  as  touch  it  with  a pair  of  tongs  ; 
but  I was  much  pleased  to  have  the  Doctor  interrupt 
some  general  remarks  which  I made  on  literature, 
with  this  question  : “ But,  Mrs.  Child,  I want  you 
to  tell  me  something  more  about  the  progress  of  anti- 
slavery.” I related  several  anecdotes  illustrative  of 
the  progressive  movement  of  the  public  mind,  assur- 
ing him  that  all  ranks  and  classes  had  been  moved, 
in  spite  of  themselves,  nay  even  Avhile  many  cursed 
the  stream  which  propelled  them.  I did  not  forget 
to  relate  how  many  Southerners  in  New  York,  during 
the  past  summer,  had  been  into  the  anti-slavery 
office  to  inquire  for  the  best  book  on  emancipation. 
He  seemed  much  affected  by  the  story  of  the  anony- 
mous fifty  dollars  sent  to  the  Society,  as  “ the  mas- 
ter’s mite  toward  the  relief  of  those  in  bondage.” 


26 


LETTERS. 


TO  E.  CARPENTER. 

, March  20,  1838. 

I thought  of  3^ou  several  times  while  Angelina 
was  addressing  the  committee  of  the  Legislature.^  I 
knew  you  Avould  have  enjoyed  it  so  much.  I think 
it  was  a spectacle  of  the  greatest  moral  sublimity 
I ever  witnessed.  The  house  was  full  to  overflow- 
ing. For  a moment  a sense  of  the  immense  respon- 
sibility resting  on  her  seemed  almost  to  overwhelm 
her.  She  trembled  and  grew  pale.  But  this  passed 
quickly,  and  she  went  on  to  speak  gloriously,  strong 
in  utter  forgetfulness  of  herself,  and  in  her  own 
earnest  faith  in  every  word  she  uttered.  “ What- 
soever comes  from  the  heart  goes  to  the  heart.”  I 
believe  she  made  a very  powerful  impression  on  the 
audience.  Boston,  like  other  cities,  is  very  far  be- 
hind the  country  towns  on  this  subject ; so  much  so 
that  it  js  getting  to  be  Boston  versus  Massachusetts, 
as  the  lawyers  say.  The  Boston  members  of  the  leg- 
islature tried  hard  to  prevent  her  having  a hearing 
on  the  second  day.  Among  other  things,  they  said 
that  such  a crowd  were  attracted  by  curiosity  the 
galleries  were  in  danger  of  being  broken  down  ; 
though  in  fact  they  are  constructed  with  remarkable 
strength.  A member  from  Salem,  perceiving  their 

1 Angelina  Gi’imke,  a native  of  South  Carolina,  and  a member  of 
the  Society  of  Friends,  addressed  a committee  of  the  Massachusetts 
Legislature  on  the  subject  of  slavery  in  the  House  of  Representatives, 
February  21,  1838,  and  on  two  subsequent  days.  She  and  her  sister 
Sarah  left  their  home  and  came  to  the  North  to  reside  because  of 
their  abhorrence  of  slavery,  and  they  were  the  first  women  to  speak 
in  public  against  the  system.  Their  testimonies,  given  from  personal 
knowledge  and  experience,  produced  a profound  impression,  and  large 
audiences  gathered  to  listen  to  them  wherever  they  went. 


LETTERS. 


21 


drift,  wittily  proposed  that  a “ committee  be  ap- 
pointed to  examine  the  foundations  of  the  State 
House  of  Massachusetts,  to  see  whether  it  will  bear 
another  lecture  from  Miss  Grimke^.” 

One  sign  that  her  influence  is  felt  is  that  the 
“ sound  part  of  the  community  ” (as  they  consider 
themselves)  seek  to  give  vent  to  their  vexation  by 
calling  her  Devil-ina  instead  of  Angel-ina,  and  Miss 
Grimalkin  instead  of  Miss  Grimke^  Another  sign  is 
that  we  have  succeeded  in  obtaining  the  Odeon,  one 
of  the  largest  and  most  central  halls,  for  her  to  speak 
in  ; and  it  is  the  first  time  such  a place  has  been  ob- 
tained for  anti-slavery  in  this  city. 

Angelina  and  Sarah  have  been  spending  the  winter 

at  the  house  of  Mr.  P , about  five  miles  from 

here.  The  family  were  formerly  of  the  Society  of 
Friends  — are  now,  I believe,  a little  Swedenborgian, 
but  more  Quaker,  and  swinging  loose  from  any  reg- 
ular society ; just  as  I and  so  many  hundred  others 
are  doing  at  the  present  day.  I should  like  earnestly 
and  truly  to  believe  with  some  large  sect,  because  re- 
ligious sympathy  is  so  delightful ; but  I now  think 
that  if  I were  to  live  my  life  over  again  I should 
not  outwardly  join  any  society,  there  is  such  a ten- 
dency to  spiritual  domination,  such  an  interfering 
with  individual  freedom. 

Have  you  read  a little  pamphlet  called  “ George 
Fox  and  his  First  Disciples  ” ? I was  charmed  with 
it.  Don’t  you  remember  I told  you  I was  sure  that 
the  thou  and  thee  of  Friends  originated  in  a principle 
of  Christian  uquality?  This  pamphlet  confirms  my 
conjecture.  In  the  English  language  of  George  Fox’s 
time,  and  in  most  European  languages  now,  thou 
was  used  only  to  familiars  and  equals. 


28 


LETTERS. 


Kings  say  we.,  and  nobles  are  addressed  as  you. 
The  Germans  carry  this  worsliipfnl  plurality  to  an 
absurd  extent.  The  prince  being  missed  by  liis  com- 
panions on  a hunting  excursion,  one  of  the  noblemen 
asked  a peasant,  “ Hast  thou  seen  the  prince  pass  this 
way?”  “No,  my  lord,”  replied  the  peasant,  “but 
their  dog  have  passed.”  It  was  this  distinction  of 
language  addressed  to  superiors,  and  to  inferiors  or 
equals,  that  the  early  Friends  resisted.  The  custom 
had  life  in  it  then,  for  it  was  merely  the  outward 
expression  or  form  of  a vital  principle.  What  is  it 
now  ? An  inherited  formality,  of  which  few  stop  to 
inquire  the  meaning.  Thus  have  all  human  forms 
the  seed  of  death  within  them  ; but  luckily  when  the 
body  becomes  dead,  the  inward  soul  or  principle  seeks 
a new  form  and  lives  again.  The  Friends  as  a society 
may  become  extinct ; but  not  in  vain  did  they  cast 
forth  their  great  principles  into  everlasting  time.  No 
truth  they  uttered  shall  ever  die  ; neither  shall  any 
truth  that  you  or  I may  speak,  or  express  in  our  lives. 
Two  centuries  after  William  Penn  brought  indig- 
nation upon  himself  by  saying  “thou”  to  the  Duke 
of  York,  the  French  revolutionists,  in  order  to  show 
that  they  were  friends  of  equality,  wrote  in  their 
windows,  “ In  this  house  we  ‘ thou  ’ it.”  And  this 
idea,  dug  up  by  the  Friends  from  the  ashes  of  early 
Christianity,  has  in  fact  given  rise  to  the  doctrine  of 
“ spiritual  brotherhood,”  echoed  and  reechoed  from 
Priestley  to  Channing. 

TO  MRS.  ELLIS  GRAY  LORING. 

Northampton  [Mass.],  June  9,  1838. 

A month  elapsed  after  I came  here  before  I stepped 
into  the  woods  which  were  all  around  me  blooming 


LETTERS. 


29 


'with  wild  flowers.  I did  not  go  to  Mr.  Dwight’s  or- 
dination, nor  have  I yet  been  to  meeting.  He  has 
been  to  see  me,  however,  and  though  I left  my  work 
in  the  midst,  and  sat  down  with  a dirty  gown  and 
hands  somewhat  grimmed,  we  were  high  up  in  the 
blue  in  fifteen  minutes.  I promised  to  take  a flight 
with  him  from  the  wash-tub  or  dish-kettle  any  time 
when  he  would  come  along  with  his  balloon.  . . . 

C.  is  coming  down  next  week,  and  I think  I shall 
send  a line  to  some  of  you  by  her.  Her  religious 
furor  is  great,  just  at  this  time,  but  of  her  theological 
knowledge  }mu  can  judge  when  I tell  you  that  when 
I spoke  of  old  John  Calvin,  she  asked  me  if  he  was 
the  same  as  John  the  Baptist.  . . . 

I don’t  suppose  any  present  was  quite  so  satisfac- 
tory as  the  pretty  green  watering  pot.  Father  said 
I was  out  with  it  in  the  rain  as  well  as  the  sunshine. 

TO  REV.  CONVERS  FRANCIS. 

Northampton,  July  12,  1838. 

Your  kind  letter  in  reply  to  mine  was  most  wel- 
come. The  humility  with  which  you  say  that  you 
“ may  have  been  permitted  now  and  then  to  sug- 
gest things  not  useless  to  my  genius,”  sounds  oddly 
enough.  Such  expressions  from  a mind  so  immeasur- 
ably superior  to  mine,  in  its  attainments,  would  seem 
to  be  feigned  and  excessive,  did  I not  know  that  you 
speak  sincerely.  If  I possessed  your  knowledge,  it 
seems  to  me  as  if  I could  move  the  whole  world.  I 
am  often  amused  and  surprised  to  think  how  many 
things  I have  attempted  to  do  with  my  scanty  stock 
of  learning.  I know  not  how  it  is,  but  my  natural 
temperament  is  such  that  when  I wish  to  do  anything 
I seem  to  have  an  instinctive  faith  that  I can  do  it ; 


30 


LETTERS. 


whetlier  it  be  cutting  and  making  a garment,  or  writ- 
ing a Greek  novel.  The  sort  of  unconsciousness  of 
danger  arising  from  this  is  in  itself  strength.  Whence 
came  it?  I did  not  acquire  it.  But  the  “whence? 
how  ? whither  ? ” of  our  inward  life  must  always 
be  answered,  “From  a mystery;  in  a mystery;  to 
a mystery.”  I fully  admit  your  modest  suggestion 
that  you  have  “ now  and  then  suggested  things  useful 
to  me  ;”  but  I owe  more  than  this  occasional  assist-, 
ance  (I  am  laughing  in  my  sleeve  at  your  humility, 
and  therefore  emphasize)  to  “ the  fortunate  circum- 
stance of  your  having  come  into  the  world  before 
me.”  To  your  early  influence,  by  conversation,  let- 
ters, and  example,  I owe  it  that  my  busy  energies 
took  a literary  direction  at  all. 

TO  FRANCIS  G.  SHAW. 

Northampton,  August  17,  1838. 

With  regard  to  intercourse  with  slave-holders,  far 
from  shunning  it  myself,  I seek  it  diligently.  Many 
and  many  an  hour’s  argument,  maintained  with  can- 
dor and  courtesy,  have  I had  with  them  ; and  they 
have  generally  appeared  to  like  me,  though  my  prin- 
ciples naturally  seemed  to  them  stern  and  uncompro- 
mising. I am  not  so  intolerant  as  to  suppose  that 
slave-holders  have  not  many  virtues,  and  many  very 
estimable  qualities  ; but  at  the  same  time,  let  me 
caution  you  against  believing  all  their  fair  profes- 
sions on  the  subject  of  slavery.  Men  who  are  true 
and  honorable  on  all  other  subjects  will  twist,  and 
turn,  and  deceive,  and  say  what  they  must  absolutely 
know  to  be  false  on  this  subject. 

I account  for  the  inconsistency  and  tergiversation 
of  such  men  partly  upon  the  supposition  that  con- 


LETTERS. 


31 


science  perpetually  whispers  to  them  that  the  system 
is  wrong,  but  is  not  sufficiently  revered  to  overcome 
the  temptation  of  apparent  interest.  Still  more  do  I 
attribute  it  to  the  fact  that,  by  education  and  habit, 
they  have  so  long  thought  and  spoken  of  the  colored 
man  as  a mere  article  of  property,  that  it  is  almost 
impossible  for  them  to  recognize  him  as  a man,  and 
reason  concerning  him  as  a brother,  on  equal  terms 
with  the  rest  of  the  human  family.  If,  by  great 
effort,  you  make  them  acknowledge  the  brotherhood 
of  the  human  race,  as  a sacred  and  eternal  principle, 
in  ten  minutes  their  arguments,  assertions,  and  pro- 
posed schemes  all  show  that  they  have  returned  to 
the  old  habit  of  regarding  the  slave  as  a “ chattel  per- 
sonal.” 

TO  MISS  HENRIETTA  SARGENT. 

Northampton,  1838. 

Why  do  you  not  write  ? Are  you  ill  ? “ Are  you 

sorry  with  me,”  as  the  little  French  girl  used  to  say; 
or  what  is  the  matter  ? I really  hunger  and  thirst  to 
hear  from  you.  . . . 

My  husband  and  I are  busy  in  that  most  odious  of 
all  tasks,  that  of  getting  signatures  to  petitions.  We 
are  resolved  that  the  business  shall  be  done  in  this 
town  more  thoroughlj?-  than  it  has  been  heretofore. 
But,  “ Oh  Lord,  sir  ! ” 

I have  never  been  so  discouraged  about  abolition 
as  since  we  came  into  this  iron-bound  Valley  of  the 
Connecticut.  I have  ceased  to  believe  that  public 
opinion  will  ever  be  sincerely  reformed  on  the  ques- 
tion till  long  after  emancipation  has  taken  place.  I 
mean  that  for  generations  to  come  there  will  be  a 
very  large  minority  hostile  to  the  claims  of  colored 
people  ; and  the  majority  will  be  largely  composed  of 


32 


LETTERS. 


individuals  who  are  found  on  that  side  from  an;y  and 
every  motive  rather  than  hearty  sympathy  with  the 
down-trodden  race.  Public  events,  probably  of  the 
most  unexpected  character,  wdll  help  along  the  de- 
sired result.  The  injudicious  course  of  the  South  has 
identified  the  claims  of  emancipation  and  free  discus- 
sion, and  thus  thousands  have  already  been  roused 
who  care  little  or  nothing  for  the  poor  slave.  The 
stupidity  and  recklessness  of  Stevenson,  in  his  mad 
encounter  with  O’Connell,  have  fairly  laid  before  the 
gaze  of  Europe  that  most  disgusting  feature  of  slav- 
ery which  abolitionists  have  been  obliged  to  leave 
partially  veiled,  for  decency’s  sake.  What  God  is 
preparing  for  us  along  the  Indian  frontier,  in  Mexico, 
Cuba,  and  Hayti,  I know  not ; but  I think  I see 
“coming  events  cast  their  shadows  before.”  We  cer- 
tainly have  done  all  we  could  to  secure  the  deadly 
hostility  of  the  red  man  and  the  black  man  every- 
where. I think  God  will  overrule  events  to  bring 
about  a change,  long  before  the  moral  sense  of  this 
nation  demands  it  as  a matter  of  justice  and  human- 
ity. What  would  have  become  of  the  Protestant 
reformation  in  England  (at  least  for  several  gener- 
ations) if  the  Pope  had  acknowledged  the  legitimacy 
of  Queen  Elizabeth.  She  was  as  read}^  to  be  a Cath- 
olic as  a Protestant,  and  a very  large  proportion  of 
the  people  were  favorable  to  their  ancient  form  of 
worship,  though  they  did  not  care  enough  about  it  to 
sacrifice  important  interests.  God  so  ordered  it  that 
the  Pope,  desirous  of  supporting  Mary  Stuart’s  claim, 
and  little  foreseeing  the  result  of  his  proceedings, 
denied  the  legitimacy  of  Elizabeth.  She  was  obliged 
to  throw  herself  on  the  Protestants,  and,  of  course, 
carried  with  her  the  ambitious,  the  timid,  and  the 
time-serving. 


LETTERS. 


S3 


TO  REV.  CONVEKS  FRANCIS. 

Northampton,  December  22,  1838. 

If  I were  to  choose  my  home,  I certainly  would  not 
place  it  in  the  Valley  of  the  Connecticut.  It  is  true, 
the  river  is  broad  and  clear,  the  hills  majestic,  and 
the  whole  aspect  of  outward  nature  most  lovely. 
But  oh  ! the  narrowness,  the  bigotry  of  man  ! To 
think  of  hearing  a whole  family  vie  with  each  other, 
in  telling  of  vessels  that  were  wrecked,  or  shattered, 
or  delayed  on  their  passage,  because  they  sailed  on 
Sunday  ! To  think  of  people’s  troubling  their  heads 
with  the  question  whether  the  thief  could  have  been 
instantaneously  converted  on  the  cross,  so  that  the 
Saviour  could  promise  him  an  entrance  to  Paradise ! 
In  an  age  of  such  stirring  inquiry,  and  of  such  ex- 
tended benevolence  — in  a world  which  requires  all 
the  efforts  of  the  good  and  wise  merely  to  make  it 
receptive  of  holy  influences,  what  a pity  it  is  that  so 
much  intellect  should  be  wasted  upon  such  theologi- 
cal jargon  ! No  wonder  that  the  intelligent  infldel, 
looking  at  mere  doctrines  and  forms,  should  be  led 
to  conclude  that  religion  had  done  more  harm  in  the 
world  than  good.  The  really  inward-looking  find  in 
these  no  language  by  which  they  can  give  even  a 
stammering  utterance  to  their  thoughts  and  feelings ; 
yet  the  incubus  of  forms,  from  which  the  life  has  de- 
parted, oppresses  them,  though  they  dare  not  throw 
them  off.  Something  is  coming  toward  us  (I  know 
not  what),  with  a glory  round  its  head,  and  its  long, 
luminous  rays  are  even  now  glancing  on  the  desert 
and  the  rock.  The  Unitarian,  busily  at  work  pulling 
down  old  structures,  suddenly  sees  it  gild  some  an- 
cient pillar,  or  shed  its  soft  light  on  some  moss-grown 
3 


34 


LETTERS. 


altar ; and  he  stops  with  a troubled  doubt  whether 
all  is  to  be  destroyed ; and  if  destroyed,  wherewith 
shall  he  build  anew  ? He  looks  upward  for  the  coin- 
ing dawn,  and  calls  it  transcendentalism.  The  Cal- 
yinist  at  work  with  strong  arm  and  sincere  heart  at 
his  fiery  forge,  fashioning  the  melted  metal  in  time- 
honored  moulds,  sees  a light,  before  which  his  fires 
grow  dim,  and  the  moulded  forms  seem  rigid  and  un- 
couth. Perplexed,  he  asks  if  the  martyred  fathers 
did  die  for  a faith  that  must  be  thrown  aside  like  a 
useless  stove  of  last  year’s  patent.  His  grim  iron 
forms  return  no  answer,  for  there  is  not  in  them  that 
which  ca7i  answer  the  earnest  questionings  of  the  hu- 
man soul.  He  too  looks  upward,  sees  the  light,  and 
calls  it  Perfectionism. 

Having  accidentally  fallen  into  this  vein  of  thought 
brings  Emerson  to  my  remembrance.  How  absurdly 
the  Unitarians  are  behaving,  after  all  their  talk  about 
liberality,  the  sacredness  of  individual  freedom,  free 
utterance  of  thought,  etc.  If  Emerson’s  thoughts 
are  not  their  thoughts,  can  they  not  reverence  them, 
inasmuch  as  they  are  formed  and  spoken  in  freedom  ? 
I believe  the  whole  difficulty  is,  they  are  looking  out- 
wardly to  what  the  logical  opponents  will  say,  not 
inwardly  with  calm  investigation.  I am  not  at  all 
disturbed  by  what  any  man  believes,  or  what  he  dis- 
believes ; and  as  for  the  Unitarian  views,  they  arise 
from  doubts  too  familiar  to  my  own  mind  to  be  in- 
tolerant at  this  period  of  my  life.  But  I do  like  to 
have  men  utter  their  thoughts  honestly,  and  not  be 
afraid  that  it  will  not  do  to  break  down  old  forms. 
Of  the  many  who  make  an  outcry  about  Emerson’s 
scruples  concerning  the  sacrament,  what  proportion 
do  you  suppose  really  regard  that  institution  as  sa- 


LETTERS. 


35 


cred  ? “ What  can  be  more  unprofitable  than  to  see 

men  struggling  with  their  whole  force  and  industry  to 
stretch  out  the  old  formula  and  phraseology,  so  that 
it  may  cover  the  new,  contradictory,  entirely  uncover- 
able  thing  ? Whereby  the  poor  formula  does  but  crack, 
and  one’s  honesty  along  with  it.  This  stretching  out 
of  formulas  till  they  crack  is,  especially  in  time  of  swift 
changes,  one  of  the  sorrowfullest  tasks  poor  human- 
ity has.” 

I by  no  means  charge  the  Unitarians  with  being 
the  only  ones  tliat  strive  to  stretch  out  old  formulas ; 
but  it  is  more  observable  in  them,  because  so  incon- 
sistent with  their  own  free  theories. 

TO  FRANCIS  G.  SHAW. 

Northampton,  1840. 

I too  should  like  to  see  “ the  poetry  of  motion  ” 
in  Fanny  Elssler.  But  the  only  thing  (except  seeing 
dear  friends)  that  has  attracted  me  to  Boston,  was  the 
exhibition  of  statuary.  In  particular  I have  an  earn- 
est desire  to  see  the  “ Infant  guided  to  Heaven  by 
Angels.”  I am  ashamed  to  say  how  deeply  I am 
charmed  with  sculpture ; ashamed,  because  it  seems 
like  affectation  in  one  who  has  had  such  very  limited 
opportunity  to  become  acquainted  with  the  arts.  I 
have  a little  plaster  figure  of  a caryatid,  which  acts 
upon  my  spirit  like  a magician’s  spell.  Sarah  (she 
reproves  me  when  I call  her  Mrs.  S.)  did  not  seem  to 
think  much  of  it ; but  to  me  it  has  an  expression  of 
the  highest  kind.  Repose  after  conflict  — not  the  re- 
pose of  innocence,  but  the  repose  of  wisdom.  Many 
a time  this  hard  summer  I have  laid  down  dish-cloth 
or  broom  and  gone  to  refresh  my  spirit  by  gazing  on 
it  a few  minutes.  It  speaks  to  me.  It  says  glorious 


36 


LETTERS. 


things.  In  summer  I place  flowers  before  it ; and 
now  I have  laid  a garland  of  acorns  and  amaranths 
at  its  feet.  I do  dearly  love  every  little  bit  of  real 
sculpture. 


TO  A CHILD. 

Northampton,  August  16,  1840. 

Dearest  Nony,  — Now  I will  write  to  you.  I 
have  no  kitten  to  purr  aloud  ; and  my  great  black 
cat  is  not  sufflciently  well-behaved  to  deserve  a writ- 
ten description.  But  my  swallows  still  keep  about 
the  house.  Almost  every  evening  one  or  two  of 
them  come  in  at  dark  in  search  of  flies ; and  they  go 
circling  round  my  head,  so  that  I sometimes  feel 
their  wings  fan  my  face.  Once  in  a great  while 
they  come  in  now  to  look  at  the  old  nest,  and  squat 
down  in  it  for  a minute  or  two ; just  as  children  love 
to  go  back  to  the  old  homestead,  to  see  the  place 
where  they  were  born.  But  the  pleasantest  sight 
of  all  was  when  the  little  ones  were  learning  to  fly. 
Such  a twittering  and  bustling ! And  when  the 
baby  birds,  in  spite  of  the  mother’s  unwearied  ef- 
forts, still  continued  too  timid  to  drop  down  from 
the  edge  of  the  nest,  she  brought  in  eight  or  ten  of 
her  neighbor  swallows  to  instruct  and  encourage 
them.  She  did  this  three  times  in  succession.  The 
wood-shed  seemed  full  of  birds,  for  a few  minutes  at 
a time,  flying  and  perching,  and  clinging  to  the 
beams,  in  all  manner  of  pretty  attitudes.  I don’t 
know  but  you  grow  tired  hearing  about  my  birds ; 
but  it  seems  as  if  I could  watch  them  forever.  Every 
day  I fear  it  is  the  last  time  I shall  see  them  ; for 
they  will  soon  go  away  to  the  South,  to  find  a warmer 
home  for  winter. 


LETTERS. 


37 


TO  FRANCIS  Q.  SHAAV. 

Northampton,  1840. 

I did  hope  mightily  to  see  you,  and  I wanted  to 
have  you  hear  John  Dwight  preach.  John’s  is  a 
mild,  transparent,  amber  light,  found 

“ In  einem  andern  Sonnen  lichte, 

In  einer  glucklichen  Natur.” 

Shame  on  me  for  quoting  German  so  pompously, 
when  these  are  almost  the  only  lines  I know. 

You  have  seen  the  illustrations  of  John  Bunyan, 
the  literary  part  prepared  by  Bernard  Barton  ? Oh, 
it  is  a lovely  book ! The  memory  of  it  haunts  me 
like  a sweet  dream.  You  looked  at  it  in  church  one 
day  ; and  I pointed  to  you  the  picture  of  the  river 
of  life,  where  the  light  was  so  supernaturally  trans- 
parent, and  soft,  and  warm  ; like  the  sun  shining 
through  crystal  walls  upon  golden  floors.  Well, 
that  picture  is  like  some  of  John  Dwight’s  sermons. 
Blessings  on  him  ! He  has  ministered  to  my  soul  in 
seasons  of  great  need.  I think  that  was  all  he  was 
sent  here  for,  and  that  the  parish  are  paying  for  a 
missionary  to  me.  Who  are  the  rest  of  the  world, 
that  God  should  send  missionaries  to  them  ? 

TO  MISS  AUGUSTA  KING. 

Northampton,  October  21,  1840. 

My  heart  has  written  you  several  epistles  in  reply, 
but  the  hand  could  not  be  spared.  Oh  for  some 
spiritual  daguerreotype,  by  which  thoughts  might 
spontaneously  write  themselves  ! How  should  you 
like  that?  Would  you  dare  venture  upon  it  for  the 
sake  of  the  convenience  ? 

Oh,  but  you  should  have  seen  Lonetown  woods  in 


38 


LETTERS. 


the  rich  beauty  of  autumnal  foliage  ! Color  taking 
its  fond  and  bright  farewell  of  form,  — Like  the  im- 
agination giving  a deeper,  richer,  warmer  glow  to 
old  familiar  truths,  before  the  winter  of  rationalism 
comes,  and  places  trunk  and  branches  in  naked  out- 
line against  the  clear  cold  sky. 

I have  had  a charming  letter  from  Mr.  W.,  a 
real  German  effusion,  filling  matter  brimful  of  life; 
so  that  statues  beseech,  and  are  sad  that  we  do  not 
understand  their  language ; and  flowers  dance  in 
troops  to  wind-music ; and  the  brook  goes  tumb- 
ling to  the  river,  roaring  as  he  falls,  and  the  river 
smiles  that  he  comes  to  her  unharmed.  It  is  the 
old  instinct  that  peopled  nature  with  the  graceful 
forms  of  naiad,  dryad,  and  oread.  Thus  imperfectly, 
with  all  our  strivings,  do  we  spell  out  the  “ litera- 
ture of  God,”  as  Margaret  Fuller  eloquently  calls 
creation.  . . . 

A truce  with  my  “ Orphic  sayings  ! ” Here  am  I 
well  nigh  thirty-nine  years  old,  and  cannot  for  the 
life  of  me  talk  common  sense.  What  shall  I do  to 
place  myself  in  accordance  with  the  received  opin- 
ions of  mankind  ? if  I had  been  a flower  or  a bird, 
Linnaeus  or  Audubon  might  have  put  me  into  some 
order;  if  I had  been  a beaver  or  an  antelope.  Buff  on 
might  have  arranged  me.  One  would  think  that  be- 
ing a woman  were  more  to  the  purpose  than  either ; 
for  if  to  stand  between  “ two  infinities  and  three  im- 
mensities,” as  Carlyle  says  (the  two  infinities  being 
cooking  done  and  to  be  done,  and  the  three  immen- 
sities being  making,  mending,  and  washing),  if  this 
won’t  drive  poetry  out  of  a mortal,  I know  not  what 
will. 


LETTERS. 


39 


TO  REV.  CONVERS  FRANCIS. 

Northampton,  October  30,  1840. 

Is  not  the  idea  of  this  present  age  written  in  the 
fact  that  any  man  can  have  his  likeness  taken  in 
a minute  by  machinery  ? In  “ the  philosophy  of 
clothes  ” has  it  ever  occurred  to  you,  that  in  those 
Eastern  countries,  where  a belief  in  fatalism  stops  the 
activity  of  human  thought,  the  fashion  of  the  garments 
changes  not ; while  in  France,  where  churches  and 
governments  are  demolished  in  three  days,  the  fash- 
ion of  the  garments  is  forever  changing  ? I appre- 
hend the  clothing  of  a nation  reveals  much  to  the 
inhabitants  of  the  aforesaid  spiritual  daguerreotype 
region.  We  borrow  our  fashions.  How  is  it  with 
our  thoughts  ? By  the  way,  did  you  hear  that  ex- 
cellent joke,  that  Louis  Phillippe  had  written  to  Dr. 
Channing  to  manufacture  a religion  for  the  French 
people  ? 

My  thoughts  run  on  in  the  wildest  way  to-day. 
For  the  first  time  these  six  weeks,  I have  somebody 
in  the  kitchen  to  do  my  work  ; and  there  is  a whole 
boys’  school  set  loose  in  my  brain,  kicking  up  heels, 
throwing  up  caps,  hurrahing,  chasing  butterflies,  — 
everything  in  short,  except  drowning  kittens.  So 
you  must  not  look  for  anything  like  coherence. 

To  go  back  to  my  hobby  of  twenty  years,  ^.  e.  the 
forms  of  ideas.  See  you  not  how  that  old  jangling 
pair,  necessity  and  free-will,  are  shown  in  the  ten- 
dency of  all  things  to  decay  and  reproduction?  in 
mysticism  and  rationalism  ? in  conservatism  and  re- 
form ? Forever  in  the  universe,  and  the  universe 
containing  man,  there  is  one  hand  winged,  and  the 
other  chained.  Because  of  necessity  and  free-will, 


40  LETTERS. 

\ 

the  revolving  worlds  keep  their  places.  The  sun  is 
their  necessity,  centrifugal  force  their  strong  free- 
will. And  those  two  opposing  ideas,  which  regulate 
the  motion  of  the  stars,  are  constantly  taking  form  in 
the  most  trivial  actions  of  my  daily  life.  By  my 
soul,  though  free-will  has  a hard  battle  in  these  latter 
times,  necessity  presses  like  a patent  screw. 

TO  THE  SAME. 

Northampton,  January,  1841. 

I marvel  that  you,  who  are  no  stranger  to  phil- 
osophy in  its  best  sense,  and  who  have  the  highest 
peaks  of  your  mind  at  least  a little  gilded  with  trans- 
cendentalism, suppose  that  the  “ deadening  drudgery 
of  the  world  ” can  “ imprison  the  soul  in  caverns.” 
It  is  not  merely  an  eloquent  phrase,  but  a distinct 
truth,  that  the  outward  has  no  power  over  us  but 
that  which  we  voluntarily  give  it.  It  is  not  I who 
drudge,  it  is  merely  the  case  containing  me.  I defy 
all  the  powers  of  earth  and  hell  to  make  me  scour 
floors  and  feed  pigs,  if  I choose  meanwhile  to  be  off 
conversing  with  the  angels.  . . . You  are  right,  my 
dear  brother,  to  attribute  such  freshness  as  I have  to 
a vivid  religious  sentiment,  not  a theological  tenet. 
If  I can  in  quietude  and  cheerfulness  forego  my  own 
pleasure,  and  relinquish  my  own  tastes,  to  administer 
to  my  father’s  daily  comfort,  I seem  to  those  who 
live  in  shadows  to  be  cooking  food  or  mixing  medi- 
cines ; but  I am  in  fact  making  divine  works  of  art, 
which  will  reveal  to  me  their  fair  proportions  in  the 
far  eternit3^  If  I can  smother  the  rising  anger,  and 
melt  wrath  with  love,  I have  written  a glorious  piece 
of  music,  to  be  sung  in  my  “ Father’s  house  of  many 
mansions.”  Nay,  more,  perhaps  I am  doing  somewhat 


LETTERS. 


41 


to  make  a holier  music  descend  to  this  world,  first  in 
purified  affections,  and  ultimately  in  written  notes. 
In  this  view  of  the  ever-active  agency  of  spirit,  how 
appalling  is  the  responsibility  of  a human  soul  ; how 
glorious  its  capabilities.  Another  means  of  keeping 
my  soul  fresh  is  my  intense  love  of  Nature.  Another 
help,  perhaps  stronger  than  than  either  of  the  two,  is 
domestic  love.  . . . 

A Southern  gentleman,  some  time  since,  wrote  to 
me  from  New  Orleans,  postage  double  and  unpaid, 
inviting  me  to  that  city,  promising  me  a “ warm 
reception,  and  lodgings  in  the  calaboose,  with  as 
much  nigger  company  as  you  desire.”  ^ He  wrote  ac- 
cording to  the  light  that  was  in  him.  He  did  not 
know  that  the  combined  police  of  the  world  could 
not  imprison  me.  In  spite  of  bolts  and  bars,  I should 
have  been  off,  like  a witch  at  midnight  holding  fair 
discourse  with  Orion,  and  listening  to  the  plaintive 
song  of  Pleiades  mourning  for  the  earth-dimmed  glory 
of  their  fallen  sister.  How  did  he  know,  in  his  moral 
midnight,  that  choosing  to  cast  our  lot  with  the  low- 
liest of  earth  was  the  very  way  to  enter  into  com- 
panionship with  the  highest  in  heaven  ? 

TO  JOSEPH  CARPENTER. 

Northampton,  February  8,  1841. 

The  only  house  on  our  farm  is  a sort  of  shanty 
with  two  rooms  and  a garret,  where  a smart  colored 
man  and  his  wife  (fugitives  from  injustice)  now  re- 
side. We  expect  to  whitewash  it,  build  a new  wood- 
shed, and  live  there  the  next  year.  I shall  keep  no 
help,  and  there  will  be  room  enough  for  David  and 

1 The  above  extract  from  the  letter  written  by  the  Southerner  was 
one  of  many  of  the  same  kind  she  received,  because  of  her  devotion  to 
the  cause  of  abolition. 


42 


LETTERS. 


me.  I intend  to  half  bury  it  in  flowers.  As  for  the 
hyacinth  bean,  what  else  could  I expect  when  I 
trusted  a Quaker  with  anything  purely  ornamental ! 
I have  since  obtained  some  seed ; and  I valued  them 
only  because  they  grew  around  my  door  in  Cottage 
Place,  where  I spent  the  happiest  years  of  my  life. 

TO  MRS.  E.  C.  PIERCE. 

New  York,  May  27,  1841. 

•Your  last  letter  was  all  filled  with  accounts  of  your 
outward  life.  What  do  I care  whether  you  have  one 
room  or  six,  provided  you  are  happy  ? I want  to 
know  what  your  spirit  is  doing?  What  are  you 
thinking,  feeling,  and  reading?  As  for  feeling,  you 
cannot,  I know,  reveal  to  me  or  any  one  the  world  of 
sweet  emotions  that  are  now  opening  in  your  heart ; 
but  you  can  give  me  a glimpse.  And  see  that  you  do 
it,  instead  of  telling  me  how  many  gowns  the  baby 
has,  and  whether  he  sleeps  in  a swing  cradle.  You 
need  not  tell  me  about  working  all  the  time.  You 
shall  not  do  it.  There  is  no  sense  in  burying  your 
soul  under  butter  and  cheese,  any  more  than  under 
laces  and  ruffles.  Your  husband,  be  he  ever  so  plain 
a Friend,  must  mind  me,  and  observe  stated  seasons. 
On  every  anniversary  of  your  wedding  day,  he  must 
give  you  a book.  . . . 

My  task  here  is  irksome  to  me.  Your  father  will 
tell  you  that  it  was  not  zeal  for  the  cause,  but  love 
for  my  husband,  which  brought  me  hither.  But 
since  it  was  necessary  for  me  to  leave  home  to  be 
earning  somewhat,  I am  thankful  that  my  work  is 
for  the  anti-slavery  cause.  I have  agreed  to  stay  one 
year.  I hope  I shall  then  be  able  to  return  to  my 
husband  and  rural  home,  which  is  humble  enough, 


LETTERS. 


43 


yet  very  satisfactory  to  me.  Should  the  ‘‘  Standard  ” 
be  continued,  and  my  editing  generally  desired,  per- 
haps I could  make  an  arrangement  to  send  articles 
from  Northampton.  At  all  events,  I trust  this  weary 
separation  from  my  husband  is  not  to  last  more  than 
a year.  If  I must  be  away  from  him,  I could  not  be 
more  happily  situated  than  in  Friend  Hopper’s  family. 
They  treat  me  the  same  as  a daughter  and  a sister. 

P.  S.  Only  think  of  it ! New  York  has  repealed 
her  nine  months’  law,  and  every  slave  brought  here 
is  now  immediately  free. 

TO  MR.  ELLIS  GRAY  LORING. 

Neav  York,  May  27,  1841. 

Dearest  Friend,  : — Blessings  on  you  for  your 
cheering  letter.  I trust  it  expresses  the  general  anti- 
slavery sentiment.  I am  afraid  many  will  think  me 
not  gritty  enough.  The  editing  is  much  more  irk- 
some than  I supposed.  The  type  is  fine,  and  that 
large  sheet  swallows  an  incredible  amount  of  matter. 
The  cry  still  is,  as  C.  says,  “ More ! more  ! ” An 
anti-slavery  editor  is  a sort  of  black  sheep  among  the 
fraternity,  and  I have  no  courtesies  from  booksellers. 

assists  me  by  getting  books  out  of  club  libraries, 

etc. ; but  still  my  range  for  extracts  is  very  limited. 

The  first  familiar  face  I met  here  was  Mr.  B . He 

is  preaching  New  Church  doctrines  with  great  effect. 
Is  it  not  strange  that  I can  neither  get  in  nor  out  of 
the  New  Church?  Let  me  go  where  I will,  it  keeps 
an  outward  hold  upon  me,  more  or  less  weak  on  one 
side,  while  reforms  grapple  me  closely  on  the  other. 
I feel  that  they  are  opposite,  nay,  discordant.  My  af- 
fections and  imagination  cling  to  one  with  a love  that 
will  not  be  divorced  ; my  reason  and  conscience  keep 


44 


LETTERS. 


fast  hold  of  the  other,  and  will  not  be  loosened. 
Plere  is  the  battle  of  free-will  and  necessity  with  a 
vengeance  ! What  shall  I do  ? The  temptation  is  to 
quit  reforms,  but  that  is  of  the  devil ; for  there  is 
clearly  more  work  for  me  to  do  in  that  field.  I 
suppose  I must  go  on  casting  a loving,  longing  look 
toward  the  star-keeping  clouds  of  mysticism,  which 
look  down  so  mysterious  and  still  into  my  heart, 
“ and  make  it  also  great,”  while  with  busy  hands  I 
row  the  boat  of  practical  endeavor.  I would  I were 
at  one  with  myself.  A Quaker,  whose  brother  has 
joined  the  New  Church,  brings  a message  to  me. 
That  very  brother  is  an  admonition  ; for  he  used  to 
be  a warm  anti-slavery  and  peace  man,  and  the 
church  influence  has  made  him  abjure  both.  . . . 

You  are  right  in  supposing  that  abolition  princi- 
ples and  non-resistance  seem  to  me  identical ; rather 
that  the  former  is  a mere  unit  of  the  latter.  I never 
saw  any  truth  more  clearly  ; insomuch  that  it  seems 
strange  to  me  that  any  comprehensive  mind  can  em- 
brace one  and  not  the  other. 

EXTRACTS  FROM  LETTERS  FROM  DR.  WILLIAM  ELLERY 
CHANNING  TO  MRS.  CHILD. 

December  21,  1841. 

Allow  me  to  express  the  strong  interest  I take  in 
you  and  your  labors.  You  have  suffered  much  for  a 
great  cause,  but  you  have  not  suffered  without  the 
sympathy  and  affection  of  some,  I hope  not  a few, 
whose  feelings  have  not  been  expressed.  Among 
those  I may  number  myself.  I now  regret  that  when 
you  were  so  near  to  me  I saw  so  little  of  you.  I 
know  that  you  have  higher  supports  and  consolations 
than  the  sympathy  of  your  fellow  creatures,  nor  do 


LETTERS. 


45 


I offer  mine  because  I attach  any  great  value  to  it, 
but  it  is  a relief  to  my  own  mind  to  thank  you  for 
what  you  have  done  for  the  oppressed,  and  to  express 
the  pleasure,  I hope  profit,  which  I have  received 
from  the  various  efforts  of  your  mind. 

I have  been  delighted  to  see  in  your  “ Letters  from 
New  York  ” such  sure  marks  of  a fresh,  living,  hopeful 
spirit ; to  see  that  the  flow  of  genial  noble  feeling  has 
been  in  no  degree  checked  by  the  outward  discour- 
agements of  life.  The  world’s  frowns  can  do  us  little 
harm  if  they  do  not  blight  our  spirits,  and  we  are 
under  obligations  to  all  who  teach  us,  not  in  words, 
but  in  life,  that  there  is  an  inward  power  which  can 
withstand  all  the  adverse  forces  of  the  world.” 


March  12,  1842. 

My  dear  Friend,  — You  see  I reciprocate  your 
familiar  and  affectionate  phrase,  and  I do  it  heartily. 
There  are,  indeed,  few  people  whom  I address  in  this 
way,  for  I fear  to  use  language  stronger  than  my 
feelings,  and  I shrink  so  much  from  the  appearance 
of  flattering  words,  that  I not  seldom  smother  affec- 
tions that  struggle  for  utterance.  But  I grow  free  as 
I grow  older.  Age  has  no  freezing  influence,  and  the 
inward  fountain  gushes  out  more  naturally.  To  you 
I ought  to  open  my  heart  after  what  you  have  told 
me  of  the  good  a loving,  cheering  word  does  you.  I 
confess  I had  thought  of  you  as  raised  more  than  the 
most  of  us  above  the  need  of  sympathy.  I had  heard 
so  often  of  your  brave  endurance  of  adversity,  and 
was  conscious  of  having  suffered  so  little  myself  for 
truth  and  humanity,  that  I almost  questioned  my 
right  to  send  you  encouraging  words,  and  certainly 
did  not  expect  so  affectionate  a response.  It  shows 


46 


LETTERS. 


me  I can  do  more  than  I believed  by  expressions  of  es- 
teem and  admiration.  If  I can  lift  up  and  strengthen 
such  a spirit,  how  can  I keep  silence  ? . . . 

I understand  fully  your  language  when  you  speak 
of  reform  as  your  work-shop.  I fear  I understand  it 
too  well ; tliat  is,  I am  too  prone  to  shrink  from  the 
work.  Reform  is  the  resistance  of  rooted  corruptions 
and  evils,  and  my  tendency  is  to  turn  away  from  the 
contemplation  of  evils.  My  mind  seeks  the  good,  the 
perfect,  the  beautiful.  It  is  a degree  of  torture  to 
bring  vividly  to  my  apprehension  what  man  is  suffer- 
ing from  his  own  crimes,  and  from  the  wrongs  and 
cruelty  of  his  brother.  No  perfection  of  art  expended 
on  purely  tragic  and  horrible  subjects  can  reconcile 
me  to  them.  It  is  only  from  a sense  of  duty  that  I 
read  a narrative  of  guilt  or  wme  in  the  papers. 
When  the  darkness  is  lighted  up  by  moral  greatness 
or  beaut}^,  I can  endure  and  even  enjoy  it.  You  see 
I am  made  of  but  poor  material  for  a reformer.  But 
on  this  very  account  the  work  is  good  for  me.  I 
need  it  not,  as  many  do,  to  give  me  excitement,  for  I 
find  enough,  perhaps  too  much,  to  excite  me  in  the 
common  experience  of  life,  in  meditation,  in  abstract 
truth ; but  to  save  me  from  a refined  selfishness,  to 
give  me  force,  disinterestedness,  true  dignity  and  ele- 
vation, to  link  me  b}^  a new  faith  to  God,  by  a deeper 
love  to  my  race,  and  to  make  me  a blessing  to  the 
world. 

I know  not  how  far  I have  explained  my  shrinking 
from  the  work  of  reform,  but,  be  the  cause  what  it 
may,  let  us  not  turn  away  from  us  the  cross,  but  will- 
ingly, gratefully  accept  it  when  God  lays  it  on  us  ; 
and  he  does  lay  it  on  us  whenever  he  penetrates  our 
hearts  with  a deep  feeling  of  the  degradation,  mis- 


LETTERS. 


47 


eries,  oppressions,  crimes,  of  our  human  brethren, 
and  awakens  longings  for  their  redemption.  In  thus 
calling  us,  he  imposes  on  us  a burden  such  as  the  an- 
cient prophets  groaned  under.  We  must  drink;  of 
the  cup  and  be  baptized  into  the  baptism  of  our  INIas- 
ter.  We  must  expect  persecution  in  some  form  or 
other : but  this  is  a light  matter  compared  with  the 
painful  necessity  of  fixing  our  eyes  and  souls  on  evil, 
and  with  the  frequent  apparent  failure  of  our  labor. 
Here,  here  is  the  trial.  Could  we  lift  up  our  fellow- 
creatures  at  once  to  the  happiness  and  excellence 
which  we  aspire  after,  what  a joy  would  reform  be! 
But,  alas,  if  we  do  remove  a few  pressing  evils,  how 
many  remain  I What  a cloud  still  hangs  over  the 
earth  I Sometimes  evil  seems  to  grow  up  under  the 
efforts  to  repress  it.  Were  it  not  for  our  faith,  who 
could  persevere?  But  with  this  faith  what  a secret 
sustaining  joy  flows  into  and  mingles  with  sincere 
labors  for  humanity  ! The  little  we  accomplish  be- 
comes to  us  a pledge  of  something  infinitely  greater. 
We  know  that  the  brighter  futurity  which  our  hearts 
yearn  for  is  not  a dream,  that  good  is  to  triumph  over 
evil,  and  to  triumph  through  the  sacrifices  of  the  good. 

You  see  I would  wed  you  and  myself  to  reform, 
and  yet  we  must  do  something  more  than  reformers. 
We  must  give  our  nature  a fair  chance.  We  must 
not  wither  it  by  too  narrow  modes  of  action.  Let 
your  genius  have  free  play.  We  are  better  reform- 
ers, because  calmer  and  wiser,  because  we  have  more 
weapons  to  work  with,  if  we  give  a. wide  range  to 
thought,  imagination,  taste,  and  the  affections.  We 
must  be  cheerful,  too,  in  our  war  with  evil ; for 
gloom  is  apt  to  become  sullenness,  ill-humor,  and  bit- 
terness. 


48 


LETTERS. 


REMINISCENCES  OF  DR.  CHANNING  BY  MRS.  CHILD,  WRIT- 
TEN AFTER  HIS  DEATH  AND  PUBLISHED  IN  HIS  MEMOIRS. 

I shall  always  recollect  the  first  time  I ever  saw 
Dr.  Channiiig  in  private.  It  was  immediately  after 
I published  my  “ Appeal  in  favor  of  that  class  of 
Americans  called  Africans,”  in  1833.  A publication 
taking  broad  anti-slavery  ground  was  then  a rarity. 
Indeed,  that  was  the  first  book  in  the  United  States  of 
that  character  ; and  it  naturally  produced  a sensation 
disproportioned  to  its  merits.  I sent  a copy  to  Dr. 
Channing,  and  a few  days  after  he  came  to  see  me  at 
Cottage  Place,  a mile  and  a half  from  his  residence 
on  Mt.  Vernon  Street.  It  was  a very  bright  sunliy 
day  ; but  he  carried  his  cloak  on  his  arm  for  fear  of 
changes  in  temperature,  and  he  seemed  fatigued  with 
the  long  walk.  Pie  stayed  nearly  three  hours,  during 
which  time  we  held  a most  interesting  conversation 
on  the  general  interests  of  humanity,  and  on  slavery 
in  particular.  He  told  me  something  of  his  expe- 
rience in  the  West  -Indies,  and  said  the  painful  im- 
pression made  by  the  sight  of  slavery  had  never  left 
his  mind.  He  expressed  great  joy  at  the  publication 
of  the  “ Appeal,”  and  added,  “ The  reading  of  it  has 
aroused  my  conscience  to  the  queiy  whether  I ought 
to  remain  silent  on  the  subject.  He  urged  me  never 
to  desert  the  cause  through  evil  report  or  good  report. 
In  some  respects  he  thought  I went  too  far.  He 
then  entertained  the  idea,  which  he  afterwards  dis- 
carded, that  slavery  existed  in  a milder  form  in  the 
United  States  than  elsewhere.  I was  fresh  from  the 
bloody  records  of  our  own  legislation,  and  was  some- 
what vehement  in  my  opposition  to  this  statement, 
and  he  sought  to  moderate  my  zeal  with  those  calm, 
wise  words  which  none  spoke  so  well  as  he. 


LETTERS. 


49 


We  afterwards  had  many  interviews.  He  often 
sent  for  me  when  I was  in  Boston,  and  always  urged 
me  to  come  and  tell  him  of  every  new  aspect  of  the 
anti-slavery  cause.  At  every  interview  I could  see 
that  he  grew  bolder  and  stronger  on  the  subject, 
while  I felt  that  I grew  wiser  and  more  just.  At  first 
I thought  him  timid  and  even  slightly  time-serving, 
but  I soon  discovered  that  I formed  this  estimate 
merely  from  ignorance  of  his  character.  I learned 
that  it  was  justice  to  all,  not  popularity  for  himself, 
which  rendered  him  so  cautious.  He  constantly 
grew  upon  my  respect,  until  I came  to  regard  him  as 
the  wisest  as  well  as  the  gentlest  apostle  of  humanity. 
*I  owe  him  thanks  for  helping  to  preserve  me  from 
the  one-sidedness  into  which  zealous  reformers  are  apt 
to  run.  He  never  sought  to  undervalue  the  im- 
portance of  anti-slavery,  but  he  said  many  things  to 
prevent  my  looking  upon  it  as  the  only  question  in- 
teresting to  humanity.  My  mind  needed  this  check, 
and  I never  think  of  his  many-sided  conversations 
without  deep  gratitude.  His  interest  in  the  subject 
constantly  increased,  and  I never  met  him  without 
being  struck  with  the  progress  he  had  made  in  over- 
coming some  difficulty  which  for  a time  troubled  his 
sensitive  conscience.  I can  distinctly  recollect  several 
such  steps.  At  one  time  he  was  doubtful  whether  it 
were  right  to  petition  Congress  on  the  subject,  be- 
cause such  petition  exasperated  our  Southern  breth- 
ren, and,  as  he  thought,  made  them  more  tenacious  of 
their  system.  He  afterward  headed  a petition  him- 
self. In  all  such  cases  he  was  held  back  by  the  con- 
scientious fear,  of  violating  some  other  dut}^,  while 
endeavoring  to  fulfil  his  duty  to  the  slave.  Some 
zealous  reformers  misunderstood  this,  and  construed 


50 


LETTERS. 


into  a love  of  popularity  what  was,  in  fact,  but  a fine 
sense  of  justice,  a more  universal  love  of  his  species. 

TO  REV.  CON  VERS  FRANCIS. 

New  York,  February  17,  1842. 

l\Iy  domestic  attachments  are  so  strong',  and  David 
is  always  so  full  of  cheerful  tenderness,  that  this 
separation  is  dreary  indeed  ; yet  I am  supplied,  and 
that  too  in  the  most  unexpected  manner,  with  just 
enough  of  outward  aids  to  keep  me  strong  and  hope- 
ful. It  has  ever  been  thus,  through  all  the  chang- 
ing scenes  of  my  trying  pilgrimage.  Ever  there  is 
a harp  in  the  sk}^  and  an  echo  on  earth.  One  of 
my  aids  is  Friend  Hopper’s  son,  who  with  unwearied 
love  brings  me  flowers  and  music,  and  engravings 
and  pictures  and  transparencies,  and  the  ever-ready 
sympathy  of  a generous  heart.  Another  is  a young 
German,  full  of  that  deep  philosophy  that  is  born  of 
poetiy.  Then,  ever  and  anon,  there  comes  some 
winged  word  from  Maria  White,  some  outpourings 
of  love  from  young  spirits  in  Boston  or  in  Salem. 
Quite  unexpectedly  there  came  fi-om  Dr.  Channing, 
the  other  da}^,  words  of  the  truest  sympathy  and  the 
kindliest  cheer.  The  world  calls  me  unfortunate,  but 
in  good  truth  I often  wonder  why  it  is  the  angels 
take  such  good  care  of  me.  Bettine  is  a perpetual 
refreshment  to  my  soul.  Nothing  disturbs  me  so 
inucdi  :is  to  have  any  Philistine  make  remarks  about 
lier.  Not  that  I think  her  connection  with  Goethe 
beautiful  or  altogether  natural.  (I  need  not  have  said 
that ; for  if  it  were  truly  natural,  it  would  be  alto- 
gether beautiful,  let  conventionalisms  try  their  worst 
upon  it.)  Did  I ever  tell  you  how  expressively  John 
Dwight  said  all  that  is  to  be  said  on  this  subject? 


LETTERS. 


51 


“ It  is  evident  that  Goethe  was  toBettine  merely  the 
algebraic  X that  stands  for  the  unknown  quantity.” 

Mr.  Brisbane,  the  Fourier  Association  man,  told 
me  that  he  was  well  acquainted  with  Bettine  in  Ger- 
many, and  that  no  one  who  knew  her  would  doubt 
for  a moment  that  she  did  all  the  strange  things  re- 
corded in  her  letters.  He  said  she  would  talk  with 
him  by  the  two  hours  together,  lying  all  quirled  up 
in  a heap  on  the  carpet,  and  as  often  as  any  way  with 
her  feet  bare  ; but  that  this,  and  other  tricks  more 
odd  still,  were  played  with  such  innocent  and  infan- 
tile grace  that,  withered  as  she  was,  be  could  not  help 
regarding  her  like  a child  three  years  old.  Yet,  in  the 
midst  of  her  wildest  frolics,  she  would  start  off  sud- 
denly and  wing  the  highest  flights  of  poetic  romance, 
or  dive  into  the  deepest  vein  of  spiritual  philosophy. 
The  artists  were  plagued  to  death  with  her,  for  she 
would  go  into  all  their  studios  just  when  she  chose, 
seize  their  clay,  tools,  or  brushes,  and  model  or  paint 
to  her  heart’s  content ; often  leaving  her  work  un- 
finished and  seizing  upon  fresh  clay  or  canvas  to  em- 
body some  new  freak  of  her  brain.  Some  of  these 
productions,  he  said,  were  of  exquisite  grace  and 
beauty.  Altogether,  she  was  the  strangest  yet,  the 
most  captivating  mortal  he  ever  met.  She  had  a son 
twenty  years  old,  a man  observable  for  practical  wis- 
dom and  business  tact.  She  was  then  a little  with- 
ered, odd-looking  old  woman  ; but  with  a fire  in  her 
dark  eye  easily  kindled  into  brilliant  beauty. 

As  for  conventional  forms,  the  giant  soul  should 
indeed  rend  them  like  cobwebs  when  they  cross  the 
pathway  of  Truth  and  Freedom.  But  there  is  an 
eternal  distinction  between  right  and  wrong,  Goethe 
and  Bettine  to  the  contrary  notwithstanding. 


62 


LETTERS. 


TO  MISS  AUGUSTA  KING. 

New  York,  September  19,  1843. 

A day  or  two  after  Parker  left,  A.  and  L.  called 
to  see  me.  I asked,  “Wliat  brings  you  to  New 
York  ? ” “I  don’t  know,”  said  Mr.  A. ; “ it  seems  a 
miracle  that  we  are  here.”  But  whatever  the  miracle 
might  be,  I believe  it  restored  no  blind  to  sight.  Mr. 
C.  and  J.  II.  went  to  hear  a discussion  between  them 
and  W.  H.  C.  It  was  held  in  a very  small  room,  the 
air  was  stifling,  and  both  came  home  with  a head- 
ache. I asked  j\Ir.  C.  what  they  talked  about ? “I 
don’t  know.”  “ But  can’t  you  tell  anything  they 
said  ? ” For  some  time  he  insisted  that  he  could  not, 
but  being  unmercifully  urged,  he  at  last  said,  “L. 
divided  man  into  three  states ; the  disconscious,  the 
conscious,  and  the  unconscious.  The  disconscious  is 
the  state  of  a pig ; the  conscious  is  the  baptism  by 
water  ; and  the  unconscious  is  the  baptism  by  fire.” 
I laughed,  and  said,  “ Well,  how  did  the  whole  dis- 
cussion affect  your  mind  ? ” “ Why,  after  I had 

heard  them  talk  a few  minutes,”  replied  he,  “ I’ll  be 
cursed  if  I knew  whether  I had  any  mind  at  all  ! ” 

J.  stayed  rather  longer,  though  he  left  in  the  midst. 
“ How  have  you  been  pleased  ? ” said  I.  “ They ’ve 
put  my  mind  and  body  in  a devil  of  a muss,”  replied 
he  ; “ and  I wish  they  had  stayed  at  home.”  “ What 
did  they  talk  about  ? ” “ They  did  n’t  know  them- 

selves — how  then  should  I ? ” Being  mischievous,  I 
insisted  that  he  should  give  some  account.  Being 
thus  urged,  he  said  they  talked  about  mind  and  body. 
“ What  did  they  say  ? ” “ Why,  W.  H.  C.  seemed 

to  think  there  was  some  connection  between  mind 
and  body ; but  those  Boston  folks,  so  far  as  I could 


LETTERS.  53 

understand  ’em,  seemed  to  think  the  body  was  all  a 
d d sham.” 

This  swearing,  I would  have  you  to  understand, 
is  not  habitual,  but  was  merely  assumed  for  the  mo- 
ment, for  fun  and  as  a safety  valve  to  a vexed  spirit. 
I write  it  to  you,  thinking  it  may  excite  a smile. 

TO  iliss  AXXA  LORING. 

New  York,  December  26,  1843. 

I had  a very  happy  Christmas,  and  I will  tell  you 
how  it  happened.  The  watchmen  picked  up  a little 
vagabond  in  the  street,  who  said  he  had  neither 
father  nor  mother,  and  had  lost  his  way.  He  said 
his  mother  used  to  get  drunk  and  sleep  in  the  streets, 
but  that  he  had  not  seen  her  for  five  years.  They 
put  him  in  the  Tombs,  not  because  he  had  committed 
any  crime,  but  because  he  had  nowhere  to  go.  He 
was  about  ten  years  old.  I applied  to  the  orphan 
asylum,  but  he  was  older  than  their  rules  allowed 
them  to  admit.  The  poor  child  worried  my  mind 
greatly.  On  Christmas  morning  the  asylum  ladies 
sent  me  five  dollars  and  a pair  of  nice  boots  for  him. 
Mr.  Child  went  to  the  Tombs  for  him,  and  after  a 
good  deal  of  difficulty  found  him  and  brought  him 
home.  He  was  in  a situation  too  dirty  and  disgust- 
ing to  describe.  I cut  off  his  hair,  put  him  in  a tub 
of  water,  scrubbed  him  from  head  to  foot,  bought  a 
suit  of  clothes,  and  dressed  him  up.  You  never  saw 
any  little  fellow  so  changed,  and  so  happy  in  the 
chano-e ! But  above  all  thinojs  his  boots  delighted 
him.  I could  hardly  keep  his  eyes  off  them  long 
enough  to  wash  his  face.  “ Are  them  boots  for  me  ? ” 
he  asked  ; and  when  I told  him  yes,  it  seemed  as  if 
the  sun  had  shone  out  all  over  his  face.  “ I never 


54 


LETTERS. 


expected  to  have  such  a boot  to  my  foot,”  said  he.  I 
shall  remember  this  Christmas  the  longest  day  I live. 
As  he  sits  before  me  now,  making  pictures  on  his 
slate,  he  every  now  and  then  thrusts  out  his  foot,  and 
examines  the  boots  from  toe  to  heel.  He  is  nearly 
white,  quite  good-looking,  remarkably  bright,  and 
very  docile  and  affectionate.  I do  not  yet  know  what 
I shall  do  with  him,  but  I hope  to  get  him  a good 
place  in  the  country.  When  I asked  what  he  used  to 
do,  “ I don’t  know  exactl}^”  said  he ; “ sometimes  I 
sat  down  on  a stone,  let  the  sun  shine  on  me,  and 
cried.”  Poor  little  fellow  ! His  joy  and  gratitude 
have  given  me  a happy  Christmas. 

Two  3’ears  later  : — 

My  Christmas  boy,  of  whom  I wrote  you  an  ac- 
count two  years  ago,  has  at  last  obtained  a good 
place  in  the  country.  I suppose  I have  written  half 
a hundred  letters  about  him,  trying  to  get  a situation 
for  him  ; for  my  heart  bled  for  the  poor  little  friend- 
less orphan. 


TO  MISS  HENRIETTA  SARGENT. 

New  York,  June  23,  1844. 

None  of  us  here  think  much  of  the  Delphic  sayings 
of  Amur  “charmed  lady.”  She  seems  to  have  hit  very 
wide  of  the  mark.  David  is  particularly  dissatis- 
fied with  it ; for  he  thinks  I am  preeminently  distin- 
guished for  the  supremacy  of  heart  over  head ; that  I 
am  almost  ridiculously  a woman  in  my  affections. 
For  myself,  knoAving  the  extreme  superficialit}-  of  my 
learning,  I could  not  help  smiling  at  the  assertion 
that  my  head  was  “ heavy  with  intellectual  knowl- 
edge.” She  had  better  ha\m  said,  full  of  rainbows 


LETTERS. 


55 


and  buttercups.  I imagine  that  placing  the  mere 
name  in  the  hand  of  the  somnambulist  is  no  criterion 
at  all.  It  ought  to  be  some  MS.  bearing  an  impress 
of  the  author’s  sentiments  and  thoughts. 

I will  copy  for  you  what  the  Rev.  Mr.  Kent  said 
when  some  fragmentary  portions  of  one  of  my  letters 
to  the  “ Courier,”  in  manuscript,  were  given  to  him  in 
a sealed  and  blank  envelope,  without  the  person  who 
gave  it  knowing  who  was  the  writer.  It  was  a portion 
of  my  last  letter,  about  the  circulation  of  the  blood 
of  the  human  frame.  On  touching  it,  Mr.  K.  (whose 
state  is  said  to  be  similar  to ’s)  said  : “ The  im- 

pression of  this  letter  is  pleasant  — exceedingly  so. 
Yet  it  seems  somewhat  disconnected.  (It  was  in  frag- 
ments.) The  writer  is  of  a very  happy  disposition  ; 
purely  and  truly  religious,  without  being  sad  or  som- 
bre ; full  of  benevolence  and  philanthropy  ; very  en- 
thusiastic and  poetical ; has  written  poetry ; mind 
quite  philosophical,  more  so  than  one  so  poetic  and 
romantic  would  be  supposed  to  be  ; great  delicacy  and 
depth  of  feeling.  My  impression  is  that  the  letter 
was  written  by  a woman,  but  there  is  so  much  strength 
of  intellect  in  it,  that  it  may  have  been  written  by  a 
man.  Would  not  like  to  say  certainly  that  it  was 
written  by  a woman,  but  my  feeling  is  strong  that  it 
was  so.  The  mind  is  good,  very  good  ; perhaps  not 
first-rate,  that  is,  not  a giant,  but  very  good,  and  very 
far  above  mediocrity.  The  person  could  not  be  guilty 
of  a base  action.  Strong  in  her  own  integrity,  very 
social,  very  lively,  and  fond  of  the  approval  of  friends. 
A phrenologist  would  say  that  love  of  approbation 
was  quite  prominent.  Very  industrious  and  persever- 
ing ; charitable,  and  very  kind-hearted.  A reflecting 
mind  ; reflects  much  and  profoundly  ; is  inclined  to 


56 


LETTERS. 


transcendentalism.  The  German  philosophy  would 
suit  it  best.  The  letter  was  written  on  some  subject 
of  much  interest  to  the  writer,  and  under  a rather 
agreeable  state  of  feeling.  The  first  impression  con- 
veyed, on  touching  this  letter,  was  that  of  goodness, 
purit}^,  and  intelligence  of  the  highest  order.”’ 

I send  it  to  you  as  it  was  sent  to  me  by  the  agent 
of  the  “ Courier.”  As  you  seemed  to  be  curious  on 
this  subject  of  neurology,  I thought  it  would  gratify 
3mur  curiosity  to  see  it. 

Dr.  Palfrey  called  on  me,  on  his  way  to  New  Or- 
leans. I agreed  to  find  places  for  five  of  his  slaves, 
and  have  done  so.  He  behaved  nobly.  His  brothers 
offered  to  let  him  take  his  share  in  real  estate;  and 
that  would  have  satisfied  the  conscience  of  most  peo- 
ple ; but  he  at  once  answered  that  he  should  consider 
such  an  arrangement  equivalent  to  selling  the  slaves ; 
and  begged  that  as  many  slaves  as  possible  might  be 
put  into  his  share.  He  told  me  that  he  had  some 
fears  as  to  how  Mrs.  P.  would  approve  of  his  resolu- 
tion, since  it  would  alienate  considerable  property 
from  her  children,  when  his  own  pecuniary  affairs 
were  considerably  embarrassed  ; but,  to  his  surprise 
and  delight,  she  promptly  replied,  “ I want  no  child 
of  mine  to  inherit  a dollar  from  the  sale  of  slaves.” 
We  have  not  labored  in  vain  — have  we,  dear  Henri- 
etta? 

TO  MISS  AUGUSTA  KING. 

New  York,  October  30,  1844. 

Emerson  has  sent  me  his  new  volume. ^ As  usual, 
it  is  full  of  deep  and  original  sayings,  and  touches  of 
exceeding  beauty.  But,  as  usual,  it  takes  away  my 
strength.  . . . What  is  the  use  of  telling  us  that 
everything  is  “ scene-painting  and  counterfeit,”  that 

1 Essays.  Second  Series. 


LETTERS. 


57 


nothing  is  real,  that  everything  eludes  us  ? That 
no  single  thing  in  life  keeps  the  promise  it  makes  ? 
Or,  if  any  keeps  it,  keeps  it  like  the  witches  to  Mac- 
beth ? Enough  of  this  conviction  is  forced  upon  us 
by  experience,  without  having  it  echoed  in  literature. 
My  being  is  so  alive  and  earnest  that  it  resists  and 
abhors  these  ghastly,  eluding  spectres.  It  abhors 
them  and  says  : “ Be  ye  ghosts,  and  dwell  among 
ghosts.  But  though  all  the  world  be  dead,  and  re- 
solved into  vapory  elements,  I will  live?”  Emerson 
would  smile  at  this ; because  it  shows  how  deeply  I 
feel  the  fact  I quarrel  with.  But  after  all,  if  we  ex- 
tend our  vision  into  the  regions  of  faith,  all  this  mock- 
ing and  unreality  vanishes ; and  in  the  highest  sense 
all  things  keep  the  promises  they  make.  Love,  mar- 
riage, ambition,  sorrow,  nay  even  strong  religious  im- 
pressions, may  and  will  fall  short  of  the  early  promise 
they  made,  if  we  look  at  this  life  onl3^  But  they  are 
all  means,  not  ends.  In  that  higher  life  we  shall  find 
that  no  deep  feeling,  no  true  experience,  has  slid  over 
the  surface  of  our  being,  and  left  no  impression. 

What  have  you  seen  and  heard  of  Theodore  Parker 
since  his  return  ? A friend  requested  him  to  buy  a 
few  engravings  in  Italy,  and  I think  he  chose  admir- 
ably. One  of  them  was  intended  for  me,  and  if  my 
spirit  had  been  with  him  (as  perhaps  it  was)  he  could 
not  have  chosen  to  my  more  complete  satisfaction. 
It  is  the  Cumasan  Sibyl,  by  Domenichino.  She  holds 
a scroll  of  music  in  her  hand,  and  seems  listening 
intently  to  the  voices  of  the  universe.  It  is  the  like- 
ness of  my  soul  in  some  of  its  moods.  Oh,  how  I 
have  listened  ! 

It  is  curious,  but,  standing  as  I am  on  the  verge  of 
declining  life,  my  senses  are  all  growing  more  acute 


58 


LETTERS. 


and  clear ; so  acute  that  my  sources  of  pain  and 
pleasure  are  increased  tenfold.  I am  a great  deal 
more  alive  than  I used  to  be. 

I live  in  the  same  quiet,  secluded  way.  I am  never 
seen  in  public,  and  the  question  is  sometimes  asked, 
“ Where  on  earth  does  she  pick  up  all  she  tells  of 
New  York  in  her  letters  to  the  ‘Courier?’  for  no- 
body ever  sees  her.”  Willis  saw  my  “ cap,”  though, 
on  one  occasion.  A bit  of  lace  outside  of  my  head 
was  as  much  as  I should  expect  him  to  see  of  me.  I 
suppose  you  have  seen  his  announcement  to  the  pub- 
lic in  what  box  I sat  at  Niblo’s ; a fact  doubtless  of 
great  importance  to  the  public,  fashionable  and  liter- 
ary. If  you  have  seen  the  paragraph  in  his  paper, 
you  will  know  what  I mean  by  the  “ cap.” 

TO  PROF.  CONVERS  FRANCIS. 

New  York,  December  6,  1846. 

About  once  a fortnight  I go  to  a concert,  music 
being  the  only  outward  thing  in  which  I do  take  much 
pleasure.  Friend  Hopper  bears  a testimony  against 
it,  because  he  says  it  is  spiritual  brandy  which  only 
serves  to  intoxicate  people. 

We  had  quite  a flare-up  here  about  a fugitive  slave, 
and  I wrote  the  “ Courier  ” an  account  of  it.  I have 
been  much  amused  at  tlje  attacks  it  has  brought  on 
me  from  the  papers.  The  pious  prints  are  exceed- 
ingly shocked  because  I called  him  “ a living  gospel 
of  freedom,  bound  in  black.”  It  is  so  blasphemous 
to  call  a man  a gospel ! The  Democratic  papers 
accused  me  of  trying  to  influence  the  state  election 
then  pending.  The  fun  of  it  is,  that  I did  not  know 
there  was  an  election.  I could  not  possibly  have  told 
whether  that  event  takes  place  in  spring  or  fall.  I 


LETTERS. 


59 


have  never  known  anything  about  it  since  I was  a 
little  girl  on  the  lookout  for  election  cake.  I know 
much  better  who  leads  the  orchestras  than  who  gov- 
erns the  State. 

TO  MRS.  NATHANIEL  SILSBEE. 

New  York,  February  12,  1847. 

Dear  Unknown,  — I have  a question  of  morality 
and  good  manners  to  propound  to  thee.  Dost  thou 
think  it  quite  proper  to  address  anonymous  letters  to 
people  in  a hand  cramped  on  purpose  to  disguise  it  ? 
Ah,  thou  rogue  ! Now  look  me  right  in  the  eye  and 
say  dost  thou  know  of  anybody  who  has  played  such 
a trick,  and  didst  thou  think  to  blind  a weasel  in  that 
fashion  ? 

Yesterday  was  my  birthday,  and  on  that  day  many 
pleasant  things  occurred.  Imprimis,  Hamden’s  Ex- 
press car  stopped  at  the  door,  and  a package  was 
brought  up  to  me.  I opened  it  and  found  a very 
beautiful  edition  of  Mrs  Jameson’s  ‘‘  Characteristics 
of  Women,”  purporting  to  come  “ from  a woman  who 
had  benefited  much  from  Mrs.  Child’s  characteris- 
tics.” “Ahem!”  said  T,  “this  evidently  comes  from  a 
woman  who  knows  how  to  shed  the  graces  over  life.” 

The  next  pleasant  thing  was  that  my  lovely  S.  L. 
came  in  with  a large  bouquet  of  violets,  the  fragrance 
of  which  filled  the  room.  “*Oh,  dear  Maria,  though 
you  were  so  silent  about  your  birthday,  I did  not  for- 
get it,”  said  she  ; and  she  played  a rondeau  and  an  old 
Norwegian  peasant  melody  which  Ole  used  to  play. 
They  all  know  the  road  to  my  heart,  the  rogues ! 

The  third  pleasant  incident  was  that  the  flower 
merchant  in  Broadway,  who  sold  the  violets,  would 
not  take  a cent  for  them,  because  S.  happened  to  say 


60 


LETTERS. 


they  were  for  Mrs.  Child’s  birthday  and  he  overheard 
lier.  “ I cannot  take  pay  for  flowers  intended  for 
her,”  said  he.  “ She  is  a stranger  to  me,  but  she  has 
given  my  wife  and  children  so  many  flowers  in  her 
writings,  that  I will  never  take  money  of  her.”  It 
brought  the  tears  to  1113^  e^^es.  I wish  I was  good. 
I ought  to  be,  everybody  is  so  kind  to  me. 

The  fourth  pleasant  incident  was  the  entrance  of 
J.  L.,  the  cantatrice,  and  a very  sweet  warbler  she  is. 
“ I did  not  forget  }'Our  birthda}^,”  she  said,  and  she 
placed  on  m}^  head  a crimson  wreath  and  sang  and 
pla}^ed  for  me  Ole’s  favorite  melody  : “ Near  the  lake 
where  droops  the  willow,”  which  he  has  introduced 
beautifully  in  his  “ Niagara,”  swelling  upon  the  wind 
instruments  as  if  borne  on  the  wiims  of  angels. 

C) 

hleeting  with  so  much  unexpected  kindness  filled 
me  with  universal  benevolence.  I ran  right  off  and 
gave  a large  portion  of  my  violets  to  my  friend,  Mrs. 
F.  G.  S.,  who  is  here  under  Dr.  Elliott’s  care  and 
blind.for  the  present,  and  the  fragrance  refreshed  her 
though  she  could  not  see  the  beautiful  tint.  Then  I 
ran  in  another  direction  and  carried  my  little  music- 
box,  and  another  portion  of  my  violets,  to  a poor  man 
who  is  dying  slowly.  I wanted  to  give  something 
and  do  something  for  the  whole  world.  . . . But  I 
must  take  care,  for  1113^  own  j^rivate  theories  on  this 
subject  touch  the  verge  of  radicalism. 

I have  a confession  to  make  to  you.  I intended  to 
send  3"ou  some  little  “ rattletrap  ” on  your  birthday. 
But  I said  to  m3^self,  “ that  will  seem  like  reminding 
her  of  my  birthday.^  She  is  rich  and  I am  poor.  If 
I send  her  plaster  she  will  perhaps  send  me  marble  ; 
it  will  be  more  delicate  not  to  do  it.”  I am  ashamed, 

1 Their  birthday's  came  in  the  same  month. 


LETTERS. 


61 


tlioroughly  ashamed,  of  those  mean  ideas,  for  the 
thought  “ I am  poor  and  thou  art  rich  ” ought  never 
to  enter  to  interrupt  the  free  flowing  of  human 
souls  toward  each  other.  Nevertheless  1 did  it  as  I 
have  done  many  other  things  that  I regret  and  am 
ashamed  of. 

Good-by,  invisible  fairy  princess,  dropping  anony- 
mous gifts  from  thy  golden  car  in  the  clouds. 

I am  ever  thy  affectionate  and  grateful  subject. 

TO  MISS  LUCY  OSGOOD. 

New  York,  March  26,  1847. 

I believe  the  Quakers  are  right  in  supposing  that 
a salaried  priesthood  are  positive  obstacles  in  the 
way  of  human  progress.  I think,  too,  that  the  voca- 
tion impedes  individual  growth.  Great,  good,  and 
progressive  souls  there  doubtless  are  among  the 
clergy  ; but  I do  not  think  they  are  as  large,  as  free, 
as  expansive  as  the  same  natures  would  have  been 
if  removed  from  the  social  pressure  to  which  all 
clergymen  are  obliged  to  submit.  The  most  mettle- 
some horse  loses  his  elasticity  and  bounding  grace 
after  plodding  a while  round  the  mill-wheel  circle. 
You  see  how  far  apart  we  are  ! You  always  at  home 
among  clericals,  I at  home  only  among  poets  and 
artists  ! You  reading  Italian  sermons  of  past  centu- 
ries, I. bothering  my  brain  to  prove  to  m3^self  (I  have 
done  wishing  to  prove  anything  to  anybody  except 
mj^self ) Goethe’s  theory  of  Colors,  by  a similar  theory 
of  Tones ! 

""  You  know  I always  wondered  why  on  earth  you 
were  interested  in  such  a butterfly  as  I am.  That  I 
love  you  very  sincerely  is  a positive  fact,  and  not  as 
unaccountable  as  your  regard  for  me.  Our  friendship 


62 


LETTERS. 


always  seems  to  me  like  a companionship  between 
Minerva  and  Fenella,  I am  sure  all  your  wisdom 
will  not  enable  you  to  tell  what  extraordinary  leaps 
and  somersets  I may  yet  make,  or  whether  the  next 
rope  I dance  on  will  be  tight  or  slack. 

TO  FRANCIS  G.  SHAW. 

New  York,  1847. 

I have  read  “ The  Countess  of  Rudolstaat.”  It 
seems  to  me  an  excellent  translation  ; but  I think,  as 
I thought  of  it  in  French,  that  it  is  less  attractive 
than  “ Consuelo.”  I doubt  whether  even  its  being  a 
continuation  of  that  story  will  make  it  sell  so  well. 
It  is  replete  with  beautiful  thought  and  high  aspira- 
tions ; but  even  to  me,  who  sympathize  with  the  as- 
pirations, it  is  tedious.  I am  sorry  that  I am  so 
wicked,  but  Albert,  with  his  Hussites  and  Invisibles, 
is  a bore  to  me,  from  beginning  to  end.  I don’t 
know  what  is  the  matter  with  me,  but  all  that  Ger- 
man part  of  the  story  has  something  about  it  cold  and 
blue  and  cloudy.  It  chills  me  like  walking  in  cav- 
erns. I long  for  the  sunny  sky  of  Italy  again.  How- 
ever, I am  glad  the  story  leaves  them  tramping 
through  the  free  forests  to  the  sound  of  guitar  and 
violin.  There  is  something  pleasant  in  that.  I would 
not  mind  having  it  for  my  heaven,  with  rosy  children 
and  the  man  I loved,  provided  he  was  not  a Hussite  ; 
which,  by  the  way,  he  would  not  be  likely  to  be,  if  I 
loved  him.  I suppose  the  trouble  is  that  I am  now 
wholly  in  the  dispensation  of  art,  and  therefore  theo- 
logians and  reformers  jar  upon  me.  Even  in  music 
I love  better  the  production  of  Catholic  composers. 
In  Protestant  music  thought  predominates  over  feel- 
ing too  much. 


LETTERS. 


63 


TO  PROF.  CONVERS  FRANCIS. 

New  Eochelle,  January  20,  1848. 

Here  I am  in  my  little  out-of-the-way  den,  as  com- 
fortable “ as  a grub  in  a nut.” 

I have  found  it  to  hold  good,  as  a general  rule,  that 
a person  who  will  ask  for  a letter  of  introduction  is 
sure  to  be  a bore.  If  I were  going  to  Europe,  and 
letters  of  introduction  to  Wordsworth,  Dickens,  etc., 
were  offered  me,  I would  never  present  them,  unless 
I happened  by  some  accident  to  receive  indications  of 
a wish  to  be  introduced,  on  the  part  of  the  men  them- 
selves. What  right  have  I to  intrude  upon  their  time, 
and  satisfy  my  impertinent  curiosity  by  an  inventory 
of  their  furniture  and  surroundings  ? Dignify  it 
as  they  may,  by  talk  about  reverence  for  genius, 
loving  a man  for  his  writings,  etc.,  I have  always 
believed  it  a game  of  vanity,  both  with  those  who 
offer  it,  and  those  who  are  pleased  with  it.  However, 
it  is  no  matter  whether  I am  wrong,  or  the  customs 
of  society  are  wrong.  I am  snugly  out  of  the  way  of 
them  here.  Never  was  such  a lonely  place  ! As  I 
trudged  from  the  depot  to  honest  Joseph’s,  about  four 
miles,  I met  no  living  thing  except  one  pig  and  four 
geese.  But  my  low-walled  room,  over  the  old  Dutch 
stoop,  faces  the  south,  and  when  I open  my  eyes  in 
the  morning  tliey  are  greeted  by  beautiful  ‘‘  golden 
water  ” on  the  wall,  the  reflection  of  the  rising  sun 
through  the  lattice  bars  of  my  willow  window  cur- 
tains. I eat  well,  sleep  well,  dream  pleasantly,  read 
agreeable  books,  and  am  serenely  contented  with  ex- 
istence. I can  go  to  the  city  whenever  I choose,  and 
am  always  sure  of  a cordial  welcome  at  Friend  Hop- 
per’s, where  I hire  a little  bit  of  an  upper  bed-room 


64 


LETTERS. 


for  my  especial  convenience.  So  you  see  I am  quite 
like  a lady  “of  property  and  standing,”  with  both 
country  and  city  residence. 

TO  THE  SAME. 

New  Rochelle,  January  14,  1849. 

As  for  amusements,  music  is  the  only  thing  that 
excites  me,  and  the  excitement  that  affords  is  most 
frequently  tinged  with  sadness,  though  sometimes  it 
go#s  tingling  through  my  whole  soul,  like  spiritual 
electricity.  Your  eloquent  extract  is  rather  “ ob- 
scura.”  However,  I feel  that  music  is  “ the  song 
of  creative  origination,”  though  I cannot  explain  it. 
When  I try  to  put  it  into  thought,  I say  that  all 
colors,  all  perfumes,  all  chemical  affinities,  rose  into 
being  and  arranged  themselves  according  to  the  keys 
of  music,  and  the  modulation  of  music.  Bettina  had 
the  same  idea.  When  writing  on  music,  she  said 
“ the  secret  of  creation  seems  to  lie  on  my  tongue.” 
My  friends,  the  ancient  Hindoos,  say  the  seven  notes 
of  music  were  the  first  thing  created  by  the  wife  of 
Brama,  even  before  they  made  the  mundane  egg. 
But  enough  of  this.  1 have  a chronic  insanity  with 
regard  to  music.  It  is  the  only  Pegasus  which  now 
carries  me  far  up  into  the  blue.  Thank  God  for  this 
great  blessing  of  mine  ! However,  if  I am  to  sing 
through  eternity  I hope  it  won’t  be  with  all  “ elders,” 
as  Revelation  has  it.  You  perceive  I am  in  a wicked 
mood  to-day.  In  all  moods,  I love  you  truly,  and  am 
ever  your  grateful  and  affectionate  sister. 


LETTERS. 


65 


TO  THE  SAME. 

New  York,  July  14,  1848. 

My  book^  gets  slowly  on.  I am  not  sustained  by 
the  least  hope  that  my  mode  of  treating  the  subject 
will  prove  acceptable  to  any  class  of  persons.  No 
matter  ! I am  going  to  tell  the  plain  unvarnished 
truth,  as  clearly  as  I can  understand  it,  and  let  Chris- 
tians and  Infidels,  Orthodox  and  Unitarians,  Cath- 
olics and  Protestants  and  Swedenborgians,  growl  as 
they  like.  They  all  will  growl  if  they  notice  the 
book  at  all;  for  each  one  will  want  to  have  his  own 
theory  favored,  and  the  only  thing  I have  conscien- 
tiously aimed  at  is  not  to  favor  any  theory.  . . . How 
queer  it  seems  to  me  to  read  long  arguments  to  prove 
that  Philo  must  have  had  some  idea  of  the  Christian 
Trinity ! Because  Plato  stands  behind  Christ,  they 
cannot  see  him,  though  his  head  and  shoulders  are  so 
plainly  visible.  One  thing  I have  learned,  in  the 
course  of  my  labors.  It  is  of  no  use  to  ask  questions 
of  others,  or  seek  assistance  from  them,  unless  it  be 
concerning  the  titles  of  books  which  contain  the 
most  trustworthy  information.  IMore  and  more  I 
feel  that  every  sort  of  salvation  we  do  attain  to  in 
this  life  must  be  worked  out  by  ourselves. 

TO  ELLIS  GRAY  LORIXG. 

New  York,  November  7,  1849. 

I spent  most  of  last  Sunday  with  Fredrika  Bre- 
mer ; four  or  five  hours  entirely  alone  with  her. 
Mrs.  S.  'fery  kindly  invited  me  to  meet  her  there. 
What  a refreshment  it  was ! She  is  so  artless  and 

1 The  Progress  of  Religious  Ideas  through  Successive  Ages.  By  L. 
Maria  Child.  In  three  volumes.  New  York,  1855. 

5 


66 


LETTERS. 


unaffected,  such  a reality ! I took  a wonderful  lik- 
ing to  her,  though  she  is  very  plain  in  her  person, 
and  I am  a fool  about  beauty.  We  talked  about 
Swedenborg,  and  Thorwaldsen,  and  Jenny  Lind,  and 
Andersen.  She  had  many  pleasant  anecdotes  to  tell 
of  Jenny,  with  whom  she  is  intimately  acquainted. 
Among  other  things,  she  mentioned  having  once  seen 
her  called  out  in  Stockholm,  after  having  successfully 
performed  in  a favorite  opera.  She  was  greeted  not 
only  with  thundering  claps,  but  with  vociferous 
hurrahs.  In  the  midst  of  the  din  she  began  to 
warble  merely  the  notes  of  an  air  in  which  she  was 
very  popular.  The  ritournelle  was,  “ How  shall  I 
describe  what  my  heart  is  feeling  ? *’  Slie  uttered  no 
words,  she  merely  warbled  the  notes,  clear  as  a lark, 
strong  as  an  organ.  Every  other  sound  was  instantly 
hushed.  Graceful  — was  it  not?  Fredrika  plays 
the  piano  with  a light  and  delicate  touch,  and  in  a 
style  indicative  of  musical  feeling.  She  played  to 
me  a charming  quaint  old  Swedish  melody,  the  Song 
of  Necken,  the  ancient  Spirit  of  the  Rivers,  as  he  sat 
on  the  waters,  singing  to  the  accompaniment  of  his 
harp.  She  sketches  admirable  likenesses  with  col- 
ored crayons.  She  showed  me  one  she  had  made  of 
Andersen,  a whole  gallery  of  celebrated  Danes,  and  a 
few  Americans  whom  she  has  sketched  since  her 
arrival.  I particularly  liked  her  for  one  thing ; she 
did  not  attempt  to  compliment  me,  either  directly  or 
indirectly.  She  never  heard  of  J.  R.  Lowell  till  she 
came  here.  His  poetry  has  inspired  her  with  strong 
enthusiasm.  She  said  to  me,  “ He  is  the  poet  prophet 
of  America.”  Emerson  seems  to.  have  made  on  her 
the  same  vivid  impression  that  he  makes  on  all  orig- 
inal and  thinking  minds.  What  a fuss  they  will 


LETTERS. 


67 


make  with  Fredrika  in  Boston ! She  will  have  no 
peace  of  her  life.  I hope  they  will  not  be  ambitious 
of  burying  her  by  the  side  of  Dr.  Spurzheim. 

TO  MRS.  NATHANIEL  SILSBEE. 

West  Newton  [Mass.],  September  14,  1850. 

The  morning  after  you  left,  when  I opened  the 
front  door  I found  a box  against  it  which  proved  to 
be  the  box.  My  dear  lady,  you  are  too  overpowering 
in  your  goodness  ! It  made  me  cry  to  see  how  you 
loaded  me  with  benefits.  But  I pray  you  curb  your 
generosity  a little.  I love  you  for  your  own  sake, 
and  if  in  some  unlucky  hour  my  conscience  whispers 
to  my  heart  that  I ought  to  love  you  because  you  are 
so  good  to  me,  then  it  will  be  hot  work,  for  my 
savage  love  of  freedom  will  resist  the  claim  like  a 
tiger.  So  pray  don’t  bring  me  into  such  a dilemma. 
The  pitcher  is  a superb  affair.  Antique  and  classical 
to  my  heart’s  content.  I seem  to  be  very  anti-tem- 
perance in  my  surroundings.  The  pitcher  is  tipsy, 
my  beautiful  young  Cupidon  has  his  heart  merry  with 
wine,  the  head  of  my  sacrificial  bull  is  crowned  with 
grapes,  and  my  candlesticks  are  interwoven  grape- 
vines. Luckil}^  I have  no  weakness  of  that  sort.  If 
myrtle  wreaths  abounded  everywhere,  I might  feel  a 
little  conscious.  You  say  the  candlesticks  are  asso- 
ciated with  pleasant  times  in  New  York,  which  we 
shall  never  have  again.  How  do  you  know  that,  lady 
fair  ? I have  been  saddened  by  such  a thought  some- 
times, but  there  gleamed  across  the  shadow  a bright 
idea  that  perhaps  some  day  you  and  I would  set  off 
to  New  York  a-pleasuring,  afoot  and  alone.  I could 
stay  quietly  at  Friend  Hopper’s  while  you  flirted 
among  the  fashionables,  and  when  you  had  leisure. 


68 


LETTERS. 


we  could  go  and  sit  together  on  carpet  bales,  or  eat 
ginger-snaps  on  a door-step  in  Staten  Island.  What 
does  the  Lady  ^Mayoress  of  Salem  think  of  that  dig- 
nified suggestion  ? 

TO  JOSEPH  CARPENTER. 

'West  Xewtox,  August  24,  1851. 

There  seems  to  be  a lull  just  now  in  fugitive  slave 
matters.  What  experiment  our  masters  will  try  next, 
remains  to  be  shown.  The  commercial  and  moneyed 
portion  of  tlie  community  will  doubtless  obey  their 
orders  to  any  extent.  But  in  the  heart  of  the  people 
I think  a better  and  braver  sentiment  is  gradually 
being  formed.  A friend  of  mine  in  Medford  shel- 
tered a fugitive  a short  time  ago.  When  the  firemen 
of  the  town  heard  of  it,  they  sent  for  the  man  chat- 
tel, elected  him  a member  of  their  company,  and 
promised,  at  a given  signal,  to  rally  for  his  defence 
in  case  he  was  pursued,  and  to  stand  by  him  to  the 
death,  one  and  all. 

TO  MRS.  S.  B.  SHAW. 

West  Newton,  1852. 

Do  you  know  that  Harriet  Hosmer,  daughter  of  a 
physician  in  Watertown,  has  produced  a remarkably 
good  piece  of  statuary?  It  is  a bust  of  Vesper,  the 
Evening  Star.  I never  saw  a tender,  happy  drowsi- 
ness so  well  expressed.  A star  shining  on  her  fore- 
head, and  beneath  her  breast  lies  the  crescent  moon. 
Her  graceful  hair  is  intertwined  with  capsules  of  the 
poppy.  It  is  cut  with  great  delicacy  and  precision, 
and  the  flesh  seems  to  me  very  flesh-like.  The  poetic 
conception  is  her  own,  and  the  workmanship  is  all  her 
own.  A man  worked  upon  it  a day  and  a half,  to 


LETTERS. 


69 


chip  off  large  bits  of  marble  ; but  she  did  not  venture 
to  have  him  go  within  several  inches  of  the  surface 
she  intended  to  work.  Miss  Hosmer  is  going  to 
Rome  in  October,  accompanied  by  her  father,  a plain, 
sensible  man,  of  competent  property.  She  expects 
to  remain  in  Italy  three  years,  with  the  view  of  be- 
coming a sculptor  by  profession.  . •.  . 

Mrs.  Stowe’s  truly  great  work,  “ Uncle  Tom’s 
Cabin,”  has  also  done  much  to  command  respect  for 
the  faculties  of  woman.  Whittier  has  poured  forth 
verses  upon  it ; Horace  Mann  has  eulogized  it  in 
Congress  ; Lord  iNIorpeth  is  carried  away  with  it ; the 
music  stores  are  full  of  pieces  of  music  suggested  by 
its  different  scenes ; somebody  is  going  to  dramatize 
it ; and  100,000  copies  sold  in  little  more  than  six 
months ! Never  did  any  American  work  have  such 
success  ! The  passage  of  the  Fugitive  Slave  Law 
roused  her  up  to  write  it.  Behold  how  “ God  makes 
the  wrath  of  man  to  praise  Him  ! ” Charles  Sumner 
has  made  a magnificent  speech  in  Congress  against 
the  Fugitive  Slave  Law.  How  thankful  I was  for  it ! 
God  bless  him  ! The  Republican  party  don’t  know 
how  to  appreciate  his  honesty  and  moral  courage. 
They  think  he  makes  a mistake  in  speaking  the 
truth,  and  does  it  because  he  don’t  know  any  better. 
They  do  not  perceive  how  immeasurably  superior  his 
straightforwardness  is  to  their  crookedness.  History 
will  do  him  justice. 

It  is  really  droll  to  see  in  what  different  states  of 
mind  people  read  “ Uncle  Tom.”  Mr.  Pierce,  Senator 
from  Maryland,  read  it  lately,  and  when  he  came  to 
the  sale  of  “ Uncle  Tom,”  he  exclaimed  with  great 
emotion,  “ Here’s  a writer  that  knows  how  to  sympa- 
thize with  the  South  ! I could  fall  down  at  the  feet 


70 


LETTERS. 


of  that  woman ! She  knows  how  to  feel  for  a man 
when  he  is  obliged  to  sell  a good  honest  slave ! ” In 
his  view  the  book  was  intended  as  a balsam  for  be- 
reaved slave-holders. 

TO  FRANCIS  G.  SHAW. 

Watlaxd,  January  22,  1854. 

Did  3"ou  ever  see,  among  a series  of  frescoes  by 
Correggio,  somewhere  in  Italy,  Diana  with  a crescent 
on  her  brow,  guiding  her  chariot  through  the  clouds? 
The  engraving  of  it  by  Toschi  is,  to  me,  the  most 
graceful,  beautiful,  altogether  perfect  thing  I ever  did 
see.  It  is  a glorious  woman,  and  j^et,  in  expression, 
the  real  full  moon,  guiding  her  bright  chariot  through 
the  heavens.  If  I lived  where  it  was  I should  make 
a little  golden  altar,  and  burn  incense  before  it.  You 
see  there  is  no  washing  my  Greek  heathenism  out  of 
me.  What  is  the  reason  that  a region  so  totally 
unlike  my  homely  environment  in  the  outward 
world  has  always  seemed  to  me  so  like  a remembered 
home  ? . . . 

Things  are  going  on  at  a terrible  rate  on  the  slav- 
ery question.  They  are  trying  in  Congress  to  vote 
payment  to  the  piratical- claimants  of  the  Araistad, 
and  to  abolish  the  obligation  of  Southerners  in  the 
Missouri  compromise.  Think  of  that ! Gerrit  Smith 
is  in  Congress  now,  and  has  made  a noble  speech. 
He  was  interrupted  by  a member  from  Maryland, 
who  tried  to  put  him  down  at  the  outset  by  sa^dng, 
“It  appears  that  the  gentleman  from  New  York  in- 
tends to  give  us  an  anti-slavery  speech.”  With  dig- 
nified courtesy,  Mr.  Smith  replied,  “ I do  intend  to 
make  an  anti-slaver}^  speech  ; and  if  the  gentleman 
from  Maryland  wishes  to  make  a pro-slavery  speech, 


LETTERS. 


71 


I shall  listen  to  him  with  all  courtesy.”  He  is  the 
first  one  that  has  stood  up  like  a man,  and  boldly 
professed  to  be  an  abolitionist.  The  Southerners  re- 
spected him,  in  spite  of  themselves  ; for  honesty  and 
boldness  will  be  respected.  It  is  reported  that  one 
said  to  another,  “ We  have  not  only  got  an  honest 
man  among  us,  but  the  best  debater  of  us  all.”  The 
honest  man  was  a rarity  ! 

Dear  Sarah’s  beautiful  articles  found  a ready  sale 
at  the  anti-slavery  fair.  Was  it  not  a touching  in- 
cident that  a poor  German  peasant,  who  had  read 
“ Uncle  Tom,”  should  have  taken  down  two  engrav- 
ings from  the  walls  of  his  cabin  and  sent  them  to  the 
fair  in  Boston?  I would  have  expended  my  last  dol- 
lar for  them,  but  unfortunately  they  were  lost  by 
shipwreck.  Such  things  make  us  forget  a thousand 
disappointments  in  human  nature.  . . . 

Sarah  writes  that  you  were  disappointed  in  the 
Sphinx.  The  description  of  travellers  has  not  led  me 
to  suppose  there  was  anything  attractive  in  the  Sphinx 
itself.  But  Gliddon’s  “Panorama of  the  Nile,”  where 
the  Sphinx  appears  just  as  evening  closes  her  curtains 
and  “ pins  them  with  a star,”  made  a deep  impression 
on  my  imagination.  The  huge,  dark,  almost  shape- 
less mass,  strange,  silent  relic  of  such  a remote  past, 
so  dim  and  solemn  in  the  desert  stillness,  seemed  to 
me  invested  with  awful  grandeur.  I don’t  wonder 
your  brother  was  afraid  to  stay  alone  wdth  those  co- 
lossal statues  of  Egypt.  A mysterious,  disturbing 
influence  comes  over  the  soul  when  the  Past  looks 
us  in  the  face,  so  like  the  eternal  eye  of  God. 

With  regard  to  the  present,  here  in  our  own  coun- 
tr}^,  my  dear  friend,  it  is  gloomy  enough.  ...  Of  all 
our  servile  Senates,  none  have  been  so  completely 


72 


LETTERS. 


servile  to  the  slave  interest  as  the  present  one.  They 
have  passed  the  Nebraska  Bill  in  open  defiance  of  the 
people.  . . . These  measures  have  been  followed  up 
by  the  most  outrageous  insults  and  aggressions  upon 
the  North.  Only  three  days  ago  another  poor  slave 
was  hunted  in  Boston,  and  though  a pretty  general 
indignation  was  excited,  he  was  given  up  by  the 
Boston  magistrates  and  triumphantly  carried  back  to 
bondage,  guarded  by  a strong  escort  of  United  States 
troops.^  The  court-house  was  nearly  filled  with 
troops  and  hired  rufhans,  armed  with  cutlasses  and 
bowie-knives.  No  citizen  was  allowed  to  enter  with- 
out a pass,  as  is  the  custom  with  slaves ; and  these 
passes  were  obtained  with  great  difficulty,  none  being 
given  to  aii}^  one  suspected  of  being  friendly  to  the 
slave.  The  Rev.  Samuel  May  had  his  pass  taken  from 
him,  and  he  was  thrust  out  rudely  by  the  soldiers. 
Men  were  even  arrested  and  imprisoned  for  merely 
making  observations  to  each  other  which  the  ruling 
powers  considered  dangerous.  My  dear  friend,  my 
very  soul  is  sick  in  view  of  these  things.  They  tell 
me  “ The  Lord  will  surely  arise  for  the  sighing  of  the 
poor  and  the  needy,”  as  he  has  promised.  I think  to 
myself,  “ Oh  yes,  that  promise  was  made  some  three 
thousand  years  ago,  and  the  fulfilment  seems  as  far 
oh  as  ever.”  But  I suppress  the  impatient  blasphemy, 
and  only  say,  as  poor  Aunt  Chloe  does  in  “ Uncle 
Tom,”  “ Yes,  missis,  but  the  Lord  lets  dreadful 
things  happen.” 

Whether  there  is  any  limit  to  the  servile  submis- 
sion of  the  North,  I know  not.  The  South  seems 
resolved  to  try  to  the  utmost  how  much  kicking  and 
cuffing  she  will  bear.  The  “ Richmond  Enquirer  ” 
compares  the  connection  between  North  and  South 

1 Tlie  rendition  of  Anthony  Burns. 


LETTERS. 


73 


to  the  relation  between  Greece  and  her  Roman  mas- 
ters. “ The  dignity  and  energy  of  the  Roman  char- 
acter, conspicuous  in  war  and  politics,  were  not  easily 
tamed  and  adjusted  to  the  arts  of  industry  and  litera- 
ture. The  degenerate  and  pliant  Greeks,  on  the  con- 
trary, obsequious,  dexterous,  and  ready,  monopolized 
the  business  of  teaching  and  manufacturing  in  the 
Roman  Empire,  allowing  their  masters  ample  leisure 
for  the  service  of  the  state,  in  the  Senate  or  the 
field.  We  learn  from  Juvenal  that  they  were  the 
most  useful  and  capable  servants,  whether  as  pimps 
or  professors  of  rhetoric.”  Now  do  yon  know  that 
my  inmost  soul  rejoices  in  all  these  manifestations  of 
contempt  ? The  North  richly  deserves  them,  and  I 
have  a faint  hope  that  they  may  be  heaped  on  till 
some  of  the  old  spirit  is  roused.  There  was  a large 
meeting  at  Faneuil  Hall  when  the  slave  was  arrested. 
Mr.  Russell  presided,  and  the  speeches  and  resolu- 
tions were  uncommonly  spirited  and  eloquent.  But 
they  talked  boldly  of  a rescue  the  next  morning,  and 
so  did  more  harm  than  good  by  forewarning  the 
Southerners,  and  giving  them  time  to  summon  a 
great  array  of  United  States  troops.  If  they  had 
only  struck  when  the  iron  was  hot,  and  used  very 
slight  precautions,  I think  the  poor  slave  might  have 
been  rescued  without  shedding  blood.  But  it  was  not 
done,  and  “order  reigns  in  Warsaw,”  as  the  Russian 
officials  declared  after  the  knout  had  driven  all  the 
Polish  heroes  into  Siberia.  My  soul  is  just  now  in  a 
stormy  state,  and  it  curses  “law  and  order,”  seeing 
them  all  arrayed  on  the  wrong  side.  This  fierce 
mood  will  soon  give  place  to  a milder  one.  But  oh, 
my  friend,  these  continually  baffled  efforts  for  human 
freedom,  they  are  agonizing  to  the  sympathizing  soul. 


74 


LETTERS. 


TO  ELLIS  GRAY  LORING. 

Wayland,  February  24,  1856. 

David  has  signed  my  will  and  I have  sealed  it  up 
and  put  it  away.  It  excited  my  towering  indigna- 
tion to  think  it  was  necessary  for  him  to  sign  it,  and 
if  you  had  been  by,  you  would  have  made  the  matter 
worse  by  repeating  your  old  manly  “fling  and  twit” 
about  married  women  being  dead  in  the  law.  I was 
not  indignant  on  my  own  account,  for  David  respects 
the  freedom  of  all  women  upon  principle,  and  mine  in 
particular  by  reason  of  affection  snperadded.  But  I 
was  indignant  for  womankind  made  chattels  personal 
from  the  beginning  of  time,  perpetually  insulted  by 
literature,  law,  and  custom.  The  very  phrases  used 
with  regard  to  us  are  abominable.  “ Dead  in  the 
law,”  “Femme  couverte.”  How  I detest  such  lan- 
guage ! I must  come  out  with  a broadside  on  that 
subject  before  I die.  If  I don’t,  I shall  walk  and  rap 
afterward. 

TO  PROF.  CONVERS  FRANCIS. 

Wayland,  February  27,  1856, 

Concerning  theology,  I still  have  a difficulty  in 
seeing  eye  to  eye  with  you.  If  there  is  such  a sci- 
ence, I should  define  it  as  treating  of  man’s  relations 
with  God  ; while  ethics  treat  of  his  relations  with 
fellow-men.  Is  there  any  basis  for  a science  con- 
cerning the  nature  of  the  Divine  Being,  and  the  re- 
lations of  human  Souls  with  him  ? What  have  we 
for  guides  into  the  infinite,  except  faith  and  aspira- 
tion ? And  must  not  faith  and  aspiration  necessarily 
differ  in  individuals,  according  to  temperament,  edu- 
cation, and  other  external  influences? 

I am  passing  through  strange  spiritual  experiences  ; 


LETTERS. 


75 


not  at  all  of  my  own  seeking  or  willing.  Ideas  which 
formerly  seemed  to  me  a foundation  firm  as  the  ever- 
lasting hills,  are  rolling  away  from  under  my  feet, 
leaving  me  on  a ladder  poised  on  the  clouds.  Still 
the  ladder  stays  fixed,  like  Jupiter  and  the  Virgin 
Mary  seated  on  clouds  in  pictures.  I have  ceased  to 
believe  that  any  revelation  written  for  one  age  or  in 
one  age  can  be  adapted  to  all  ages.  I once  thought 
that  an  inner  spiritual  meaning  invested  the  Christian 
sacred  books  with  a character  infinite  and  eternal. 
I tried  Swedenborg’s  key  of  correspondences,  but  it 
unlocked  nothing.  Wander  where  I would,  I found 
nothing  inscribed  on  the  walls,  but  that  everlasting 
duality  of  “ Love  and  Wisdom.”  Every  mineral  said 
it,  every  flower  said  it,  and  the  archangel  said  no 
more. 

TO  MRS.  S.  B.  SHAW 

Wayland,  March  23,  1856. 

This  winter  has  been  the  loneliest  of  my  life.  If 
you  could  know  my  situation  you  would  pronounce  it 
unendurable.  I should  have  thought  it  so  myself  if 
I had  had  a foreshadowing  of  it  a few  years  ago. 
But  the  human  mind  can  get  acclimated  to  anything. 
What  with  constant  occupation  and  the  happy  con- 
sciousness of  sustaining  and  cheering  my  poor  old 
father  in  his  descent  into  the  grave,  I am  almost 
always  in  a state  of  serene  contentment.  In  sum- 
mer, my  once  extravagant  love  of  beauty  satisfies 
itself  with  watching  the  birds,  the  insects,  and  the 
flowers  in  my  little  patch  of  a garden.  I have  no 
room  in  which  to  put  the  vases  and  engravings  and 
transparencies  that  friends  have  given  me  from  time 
to  time.  But  I keep  them  safely  in  a large  chest, 
and  when  birds  and  flowers  are  gone  I sometimes 


76 


LETTERS. 


take  them  out,  as  a child  does  its  playthings,  and  sit 
down  in  the  sunshine  with  them,  dreaming  how  life 
would  seem  in  such  places,  and  how  poets  and  artists 
came  to  imagine  such  images.  This  process  some- 
times gives  rise  to  thoughts  which  float  through  the 
universe,  though  they  began  in  a simple  craving  to 
look  at  something  beautiful.  A photograph  of  Raph- 
ael’s Sibyls,  given  to  me  by  Mrs.  S.,  remarkably  has 
this  effect  upon  me.  I don’t  know  what  it  is  that 
draws  me  so  toward  those  ancient  Grecians ! I sup- 
pose this  same  attraction  toward  Grecian  forms  of 
art  is  what  made  me  in  love  with  Mendelssohn’s 
music ; because  I felt  (without  understanding)  its 
harmonious  proportions,  its  Doric  simplicity,  its  fln- 
ished  beauty.  I recognize  the  superior  originality 
and  power  of  Beethoven ; but  he  does  not  minister  to 
my  soul  as  he  does  to  yours.  He  overpowers  me, — 
Alls  me  with  awe.  His  music  makes  me  feel  as  if  I 
were  among  huge  black  mountains,  looking  at  a nar- 
row strip  of  brilliant  stars,  seen  through  narrow 
clefts  in  the  frowning  rocks,  in  the  far-off  heaven.  I 
love  best  to  hear  the  “ Pastoral  Symphony,”  which  is 
the  least  Beethovenish  of  all.  The  fact  is,  my  nature 
has  less  affinity  for  grandeur  and  sublimity,  than  it 
has  for  grace  and  beauty.  I never  looked  twice  at 
engravings  from  Michael  Angelo  ; while  I dream 
away  hours  and  hours  over  copies  from  Raphael. 

TO  MISS  LUCY  OSGOOD. 

Wayland,  May  11,  1856. 

Since  you  will  think  of  me  as  an  “ author,”  I am 
glad  that  you  think  of  me  as  “ an  alive  author  ; ” for 
so  long  as  I write  at  all,  I desire  to  be  ver}"  much 
alive. 


LETTERS. 


77 


This  is  the  second  time  I have  walked  out  in  stormy 
weather  without  a cloak.  My  “ Appeal  ” in  favor  of 
anti-slavery,  and  attacking  colonization,  marched 
into  the  enemy’s  camp  alone.  It  brought  Dr.  Chan- 
ning  to  see  me,  for  the  first  time  ; and  he  told  me  it 
had  stirred  up  his  mind  to  the  conviction  that  he 
ought  not  to  remain  silent  on  the  subject.  Then 
came  Dr.  Palfrey,  who,  years  afterward,  said  that 
the  emancipation  of  his  slaves  might  be  traced  to  the 
impulse  that  book  had  given  him.  Charles  Sumner 
writes  me  that  the  influence  of  my  anti-slavery  writ- 
ings years  ago  has  had  an  important  effect  on  his 
course  in  Congress.  . . . Who  can  tell  how  many 
young  minds  may  be  so  influenced  by  the  “ Progress 
of  Religious  Ideas  ” as  to  materially  change  their  ca- 
reer ? I trust  I have  never  impelled  any  one  in  the 
wrong  direction.  In  the  simplest  things  I write, 
whether  for  children  or  grown  people,  I always  try 
to  sow  some  seeds  for  freedom,  truth,  and  humanity. 
S.  J.  May  writes  to  me  very  warmly  about  the  big 
book.  He  says  he  has  commended  it  from  his  pul- 
pit, as  “ the  most  valuable  contribution  to  an  en- 
larged, charitable,  and  true  theology  that  has  been 
made  by  any  one  in  our  country.”  Of  course,  you 
will  not  understand  him  as  meaning  to  compare  me 
with  such  minds  as  Theodore  Parker ; but  he  con- 
siders my  book  more  valuable  than  those  written  by 
many  abler  pens,  because  it  is  not  written  in  the 
spirit  of  an  opponent  to  prevailing  false  theologies. 

You  are  right  in  supposing  that  while  engaged  on 
that  work  I “ felt  like  an  inhabitant  of  the  second  and 
third  centuries.”  Everything  around  me  seemed  for- 
eign, as  it  did  when  I came  out  of  Athens  into  Bos- 
ton, after  writing  “ Philothea.”  That  was  a pleasant 


78 


LETTERS. 


ramble  into  classic  lands  ; but  this  Progress  of  Re- 
ligious Ideas  ” was  a real  pilgrimage  of  penance,  with 
peas  in  my  shoes,  walking  over  rubble-stones  most  of 
the  way.  You  have  no  idea  of  the  labor ! It  was 
greatly  increased  by  my  distance  from  libraries, 
nearly  all  the  time,  which  rendered  copious  extracts 
necessary.  How  absurdl}^  the  Old  Testament  is 
treated  by  Christians  ! used  for  all  convenient  pur- 
poses, neglected  whenever  it  is  inconvenient ! Moses 
is  good  authority  for  holding  slaves,  but  not  for  the 
healthy  practice  of  abstaining  from  the  use  of  pork. 
. . . Most  devoutly  do  I believe  in  the  pervasive 
and  ever-guiding  Spirit  of  God ; but  I do  not  believe 
it  was  ever  shut  up  within  the  covers  of  any  book, 
or  that  it  ever  can  be.  Portions  of  it,  or  rather 
breathings  of  it,  are  in  many  books.  The  words  of 
Clirist  seem  to  me  full  of  it,  as  no  other  words  are. 
But  if  we  want  truth,  we  must  listen  to  the  voice  of 
God  in  the  silence  of  our  own  souls  as  he  did. 

TO  MRS.  S.  B.  SHAW. 

Wayland,  1856. 

The  outrage  upon  Charles  Sumner  made  me  liter- 
ally ill  for  several  days.  It  brought  on  nervous  head- 
ache and  painful  suffocations  about  the  heart.  If  I 
could  only  have  done  something,  it  would  have  loos- 
ened that  tight  ligature  that  seemed  to  stop  the  flow- 
ing of  my  blood.  But  I never  was  one  who  knew 
how  to  serve  the  Lord  by  standing  and  waiting  ; and 
to  stand  and  wait  then  ! It  almost  drove  me  mad. 
And  that  miserable  Faneuil  Hall  meeting  ! The  time- 
serving Mr.  talking  about  his  “friend”  Sum- 

ner’s being  a man  that  “ hit  hard  ! ” making  the 
people  laugh  at  his  own  witticisms,  when  a volcano 


LETTERS. 


79 


was  seething  beneath  their  feet ! poisoning  the  well- 
spring  of  popular  indignation,  which  was  rising  in  its 
might ! Mr.  A.,  on  the  eve  of  departing  for  Europe, 
wrote  to  me,  “ The  North  will  not  really  do  anything 
to  maintain  their  own  dignity.  See  if  they  do ! I am 
willing  to  go  abroad,  to  find  some  relief  from  the 
mental  pain  that  the  course  of  public  affairs  in  this 
country  has  for  many  years  caused  me.”  But  I am 
more  hopeful.  Such  a man  as  Charles  Sumner  will 
not  bleed  and  suffer  in  vain.  Those  noble  martyrs  of 
liberty  in  Kansas  will  prove  missionary  ghosts,  walk- 
ing through  the  land,  rousing  the  nation  from  its 
guilty  slumbers.  Our  hopes,  like  yours,  rest  on  Fre- 
mont. I would  almost  lay  down  my  life  to  have  him 
elected.  There  never  has  been  such  a crisis  since 
we  were  a nation.  If  the  slave-power  is  checked 
now,  it  will  never  regain  its  strength.  If  it  is  not 
checked,  civil  war  is  inevitable  ; and,  with  all  my 
horror  of  bloodshed,  I could  be  better  resigned  to 
that  great  calamity  than  to  endure  the  tyranny  that 
has  so  long  trampled  on  us.  I do  believe  the  North 
will  not,  this  time,  fall  asleep  again,  after  shaking 
her  mane  and  growling  a little. 

I saw  by  the  papers  that  Mr.  Curtis  was  in  the 
field,  and  I rejoiced  to  know  he  was  devoting  his 
brilliant  talents  and  generous  sympathies  to  so  noble 
a purpose.  I envy  him  ; I want  to  mount  the  rostrum 
myself.  I have  such  a fire  burning  in  my  soul,  that  it 
seems  to  me  I could  pour  forth  a stream  of  lava  that 
would  bury  all  the  respectable  servilities,  and  all  the 
mob  servilities,  as  deep  as  Pompeii ; so  that  it  would 
be  an  enormous  labor  ever  to  dig  up  the  skeletons  of 
their  memories. 

We  also  talk  of  little  else  but  Kansas  and  Fremont. 


80 


LETTERS. 


What  a shame  the  women  can’t  vote  ! We ’d  carry  our 
“ Jessie  ” into  the  White  House  on  our  shoulders  ; 
would  n’t  we  ? Never  mind  ! Wait  a while  ! W oman 
stock  is  rising  in  the  market.  I shall  not  live  to  see 
women  vote ; but  I ’ll  come  and  rap  at  the  ballot- 
box.  Won’t  you?  I never  was  bitten  by  politics 
before ; but  such  mighty  issues  are  depending  on  this 
election  that  I cannot  be  indifferent. 

TO  MISS  LUCY  OSGOOD. 

Watland,  July  9,  1856. 

I did  not  intend  to  leave  your  New  York  letter  so 
long  unanswered,  but  the  fact  is,  recent  events  have 
made  me  heart-sick.  My  anxiety  about  Charles  Sum- 
ner and  about  the  sufferers  in  Kansas  has  thrown 
a pall  over  everything.  The  fire  of  indignation  is 
the  only  thing  that  has  lighted  up  my  gloom.  At 
times  my  peace  principles  have  shivered  in  the  wind ; 
and  nothing  could  satisfy  my  mood  but  Jeanne  d’ Arc’s 
floating  banner  and  consecrated  sword.  And  when 
this  state  of  mind  was  rebuked  by  the  remembrance 
of  him  who  taught  us  to  overcome  evil  only  with 
good,  I could  do  nothing  better  than  groan  out,  in  a 
tone  of  despairing  reproach,  “ How  long,  Q Lord  ! 
how  long  ? ” Certainly  there  are  gleams  of  light 
amid  the  darkness.  There  has  been  more  spirit 
roused  in  the  North  than  I thought  was  in  her.  I 
begin  to  hope  that  either  the  slave  power  must  yield 
to  argument  and  the  majesty  of  public  sentiment  or 
else  that  we  shall  see  an  army  in  the  field,  stout  and 
unyielding  as  Cromwell’s  band.  . . . 

I thank  you  very  heartily  for  Mr.  Wasson’s  ser- 
mon, “ The  Universe  No  Failure.”  It  is  the  most 
remarkable  discourse  I ever  read.  He  puts  the  lever 


LETTERS. 


81 


down  deep  enougli  to  upheave  the  foundations  of  er- 
ror. He  builds  his  battery  high  enough  to  command 
the  most  towering  fortifications  of  superstition.  That 
is  what  we  need.  Unless  the  root  is  dug  up,  the 
branches  will  always  be  sprouting  into  new  fantastic 
forms,  however  they  may  be  lopped  and  pruned.  I 
exclaimed  “ Bravo ! ” to  his  first  sermon ; but  over 
this,  I shouted  “ Bravissimo  ! ” I see  that  he  at- 
tended the  meeting  of  Progressive  Friends. ^ I take 
considerable  interest  in  that  movement.  I have  hopes 
that  it  will  prove  the  nucleus  of  such  a form  of  wor- 
ship as  I have  dreamed  of  for  years. 

TO  THE  SAME. 

Watland,  July  20,  1856. 

I am  extremely  obliged  to  you  for  the  loan  of  Mr. 
Furness’s  letter,  which  was  very  interesting  to  me  on 
various  accounts.  If  I had  a head  easily  turned,  I 
might  be  in  danger  of  the  lunatic  asylum  from  the 
effects  of  that  portion  relating  to  myself.  To  have 
a man  like  Mr.  Furness  pronounce  a letter  of  mine 
worth  Mr.  Sumner’s  having  his  head  broken  for, 
though  the  phrase  be  used  only  in  the  way  of  playful 
hyperbole,  is  a gust  of  eulogy  enough  to  upset  a light 
boat.  Luckily,  the 'vessel  I sail  in  is  old  and  heavy, 
and  of  late  years  carries  much  more  ballast  than 
sail.  Still,  I confess  I was  much  gratified  to  know 
that  Mr.  Furness  liked  the  letter.  To  my  own  mind, 
it  seemed  so  altogether  inadequate  to  express  the  ad- 
miration, respect,  and  gratitude  I feel  for  Mr.  Sum- 
ner, that  I was  in  great  doubt  about  sending  it.  Mr. 
Child  assured  me  that  I need  have  no  fears  ; that  Mr. 
Sumner  would  undoubtedly  be  gratified  by  it,  etc. ; 

1 A reformatory  gathering  held  yearly  in  Chester  County,  Penn- 
sylvania. 6 


82 


LETTERS. 


but  rny  good  husband  is  so  apt  to  like  whatever  I do, 
that  I did  not  consider  him  a very  impartial  witness. 
It  is  heart-cheering  to  see  a man  ready  to  lay  his 
beautiful  gifts  so  unreservedly  on  the  altar  of  freedom 
and  humanity  as  W.  H.  Furness  has  done.  On 
various  occasions  I have  felt  deeply  grateful  to  him 
for  the  brave,  true  words  he  has  spoken,  and  what 
he  said  on  the  Kansas  question  was  worthy  of  himself 
and  the  cause. 

TO  MRS.  ELLIS  GRAY  LORING. 

Wayland,  October  26,  1856. 

I intended  to  have  written  to  you  immediately  after 
I received  your  very  kind  and  pressing  invitation  to 
come  to  Beverly.  . . . Oh,  what  misery  it  is,  to  feel 
such  a fever  heat  of  anxiety  as  I do,  and  yet  be  shut 
up  in  a pen-fold,  where  I cannot  act ! It  seems  to  me 
sometimes  as  if  I could  tear  up  a mountain,  and 
throw’  it  so  that  all  false  Democrats  and  stiff  old  fo- 
gies would  be  buried  under  it  forever.  All  the  fire 
there  is  in  me  is  burning : and  Nature  gave  me  a fear- 
ful amount  of  it.  You  see,  dear,  I should  be  a very 
dangerous  and  explosive  guest,  just  at  this  time ; es- 
pecially if  you  happened  to  have  any  amiable  apolo- 
gizers  about. 

TO  DAVID  LEE  CHILD. 

Wayland,  October  27,  1856. 

I have  thought  enough  about  my  dear  absent  mate, 
but  I have  found  it  nearly  impossible  to  get  an  hour’s 
time  to  tell  him  so.  In  the  first  place,  there  was  the 
press  waiting  for  that  Kansas  story.  . . . Then  I felt 
bound  to  stir  up  the  women  here  to  do  something  for 
Kansas ; and,  in  order  to  set  the  example,  I wrote  to 
Mr.  Hovey  begging  for  a piece  of  cheap  calico  and  of 
unbleached  factory  cotton.  He  sent  them,  but  said 


LETTERS. 


83 


he  did  it  out  of  courtesy  to  me  ; he  himself  deeming 
that  money  and  energy  had  better  be  expended  on 
the  immediate  abolition  of  slavery,  and  dissolution  of 
the  Union  if  that  could  not  be  soon  brought  about. 
I did  not  think  it  best  to  wait  for  either  of  these 
events  before  I made  up  the  cloth.  Cold  weather 
was  coming  on,  the  emigrants  would  be  down  with 
fever  and  ague,  and  the  roads  would  soon  be  in  a 
bad  state  for  baggage  wagons.  So  I hurried  night 
and  day,  sitting  up  here  all  alone  till  eleven  at  night, 
stitching  as  fast  as  my  fingers  could  go.  It  was  a 
heavy  job  to  cut  and  make  more  than  sixty  yards  of 
cloth  into  garments,  but  with  help  from  Mrs.  R.  and 
the  children  I completed  it  in  eight  days.  The  women 
in  town,  both  Orthodox  and  Unitarian,  came  up  to 
the  work  cordially,  and  sent  about  sixty  dollars’  worth 
of  clothing. 

I think  you  will  gather  from  this  account  that  I 
have  had  little  leisure  since  you  left.  Oh  dear!  how 
I have  missed  you.  My  nest  seems  so  dreary  with- 
out my  kind  mate.  I have  nobody  to  plague,  nobody 
to  scold  at,  nobody  to  talk  loving  nonsense  to.  I do 
long  to  have  you  get  back.  Voting  day  will  bring 
you,  of  course.  If  you  don’t  come,  I shall  put  on  your 
old  hat  and  coat,  and  vote  for  you. 

Alas,  I am  afraid  it  is  no  matter  what  New  Eng- 
land does,  since  Pennsylvania  and  Illinois  seem  likely 
to  go  so  wrong.  My  anxiety  on  the  subject  has  been 
intense.  It  seemed  as  if  my  heart  would  burst  if  I 
could  not  do  something  to  help  on  the  election.  But 
all  I could  do  was  to  write  a song  for  the  Free  Soil 
men.  If  you  had  been  here  I should  have  had  some- 
body to  admire  my  effort,  but  as  it  is  I don’t  know 
whether  anybody  likes  it  or  not.  I have  been  told 


84 


LETTERS. 


that  the  “Boston  Post”  was  down  upon  me  for  the 
verse  about  President  Pierce.  I could  n’t  help  it.  His 
name  would  not  rhyme  to  anything  but  curse  ! . . . 

The  scenery  up  in  that  hilly  region  must  indeed 
be  beautiful  this  sunny  autumn.  I should  mightily 
enjoy  rambling  about  with  you,  but  then  I think  the 
pleasure  would  be  more  than  balanced  by  the  liabil- 
ity of  being  called  upon  by  such  highly  respectable 
people.  I should  demur  about  heaven  itself  on  such 
terms. 

TO  MISS  LUCY  OSGOOD. 

Wayland,  October  28,  1856. 

Did  you  take  note  of  T.  W.  Higginson’s  sermon  to 
the  people  of  Lawrence,  in  Kansas  ? His  text  was 
from  the  Prophet  Nehemiah,  commanding  the  peo- 
ple “to  fight  for  their  wives,  their  children,  and  their 
homes.”  What  a convenient  book  that  Old  Testa- 
ment is,  whenever  there  is  any  fighting  to  be  done. 
Many  peoj^le  seem  to  be  greatly  shocked  by  Higgin- 
son’s course;  but  if  they  admit  that  war  is  ever  justi- 
fiable, I think  they  are  inconsistent  to  blame  him. 
If  the  heroes  of  ’76  were  praiseworthy,  the  heroes  of 
Kansas  will  be  more  praiseworthy  for  maintaining 
their  rights,  even  unto  death.  But,  “It  is  treason; 
it  is  revolution,”  they  exclaim.  They  seem  to  forget 
that  the  war  of  ’76  was  precisely  that.  It  was  a 
contest  with  our  own  government,  not  with  a foreign 
foe ; and  the  wrongs  to  be  redressed  were  not  worthy 
of  a thought  in  comparison  with  the  accumulation  of 
outrages  upon  tlie  free  settlers  in  Kansas.  This  bat- 
tle with  the  overgrown  slave  power  is  verily  the 
great  battle  of  Armageddon.  I suppose  you  know 
that  the  Supreme  Court  of  the  United  States  has  set- 
tled everything  according  to  the  requisitions  of  the 


LETTERS. 


85 


South  ? It  has  decided  that  slaves  may  be  brought 
into  the  free  States,  like  any  other  property.  Such 
a decision  is  in  direct  opposition  to  the  decision  of 
the  Supreme  Court  of  Massachusetts.  If  the  old 
Commonwealth  don’t  rise  in  her  moral  strength  at 
this  attempt  to  lay  the  yoke  on  her,  why,  then,  in- 
deed, the  spirit  of  the  Puritans  and  of  ’76  has  died 
out ; and  we  must  all  drift  together  toward  a military 
despotism,  with  slave-holders  for  officers  and  foreign- 
ers for  soldiers. 


TO  MRS.  S.  B.  SHAW. 

Wayland,  October  27,  1856. 

Your  letter  accompanying  Mr.  Curtis’s  oration 
came  safely  to  hand.  The  oration  is  eloquent,  brill- 
iant, manly,  and  every  way  admirable.  Among  the 
many  good  things  which  this  crisis  has  brought  forth, 
I am  inclined  to  pronounce  it  the  best.  How  glad  I 
am  to  see  Mr.  Curtis  looming  up  to  such  a lofty  stat- 
ure of  manliness.  This  I attribute  in  part  to  the 
crisis,  so  well  adapted  to  call  out  all  the  manhood 
there  is  in  souls.  I smiled  to  read  that  he  had 
warmed  up  N.  P.  W.  to  such  a degree  that  he  an- 
nounced his  intention  to  deposit  his  “virgin  vote” 
for  Fremont.  It  was  pleasant  to  learn  that  he  had 
anything  “ virgin  ” left  to  swear  by.  What  a Rip  ! 
to  lie  sleeping  fifty  years,  dreaming  of  kid  gloves, 
embroidered  vests,  and  perfumed  handkerchiefs,  tak- 
ing it  for  granted  that  his  country  was  all  the  while 
going  forward  in  a righteous  and  glorious  career. 
Is  n’t  it  too  bad  that  such  parasol-holders  should  have 
the  right  to  vote,  while  earnest  souls  like  you  and  me 
must  await  the  result  in  agonizing  inaction  ? Things 
look  squally ; don’t  they,  dear?  But  while  there  is 


86 


LETTERS. 


life,  there  is  hope.  A briglit  little  girl,  about  five 
years  old,  lives  near  by.  She  has  heard  enough  of 
my  talk  to  know  that  I have  Fremont’s  election 
deeply  at  heart,  and  so  she  feels  bound  to  keep  me 
booked  up  during  Mr.  Child’s  absence.  When  she 
heard  her  father  read  that  the  western  counties  of 
Pennsylvania  had  given  a majority  for  him,  she  came 
flying  over,  and  called  out,  under  my  window,  “ 3Iiss 
Child  I Pennsylvany ’s  all  right,”  and  away  she  ran. 
...  I have  been  writing  for  various  papers  about 
Kansas.  I have  been  stirring  up  the  women  here  to 
make  garments  for  Kansas.  . . . Oh,  S.,  you  don’t 
realize  what  a blessing  you  enjoy  in  having  money 
enough  to  obey  your  generous  impulses  ! The  most 
pinching  part  of  poverty  is  that  which  nips  such  im- 
pulses in  the  bud.  But  there  is  compensation  in  all 
things.  I dare  say  I took  more  satisfaction  in  stitch- 
ing away  at  midnight  than  our  friend  does  in  saying 
to  her  husband,  “ My  dear,  I want  one  hundred  dol- 
lars to  pay  a seamstress  for  sewing  for  Kansas.” 

TO  DAVID  LEE  CHILD 

Wayland,  November  19,  1856. 

My  dear  good  David,  — Things  remain  much 
as  when  you  left.  . . . Brother  Convers  asked  me  to 
thank  you  for  your  speech.  He  said  he  thought  it 
excellent,  and  remarked  that  it  contained  several  im- 
portant facts  that  were  new  to  him.  . . . 

How  melancholy  I felt  when  you  went  off  in  the 
morning  darkness.  It  seemed  as  if  everything  about 
me  was  tumbling  down  ; as  if  I never  were  to  have  a 
nest  and  a mate  any  more.  Good,  kind,  generous, 
magnanimous  soul ! How  I love  you.  How  I long 
to  say  over  the  old  prayer  again  every  night.  It  al- 


LETTERS.  87 

most  made  me  cry  to  see  how  carefully  you  had  ar- 
ranged everything  for  my  comfort  before  you  went,  — 
so  much  kindling  stuff  split  up  and  the  bricks  piled 
up  to  protect  my  flowers. 

TO  MRS.  S.  B.  SHAW. 

Wayland,  December  8,  1856. 

Yes,  my  beloved  friend,  the  old  man  has  gone 
home  ; ^ and  unless  you  had  had  such  a charge  for 
three  years,  you  could  not  imagine  how  lonely  and 
desolate  I feel.  Night  and  day  he  was  on  my  mind, 
and  now  the  occupation  of  my  life  seems  gone.  I 
have  much  work  to  do,  both  mental  and  manual ; 
but  as  yet  I cannot  settle  down  to  work.  Always 
that  dreary  void  ! I went  to  Boston  and  spent  four 
days  ; but  the  dreariness  went  with  me.  The  old 
man  loved  me ; and  you  know  how  foolishly  my  nat- 
ure craves  love.  . . . Always  when  I came  back  from 
Boston  there  was  a bright  fire-light  in  his  room  for 
me,  and  his  hand  was  eagerly  stretched  out,  and  the 
old  face  lighted  up,  as  he  said,  “You’re  welcome 
back,  Maria.”  This  time,  when  I 'came  home,  it  was 
all  dark  and  silent.  I almost  cried  myself  blind,  and 
thought  I would  willingly  be  fettered  to  his  bedside 
for  years,  if  I could  only  hear  that  voice  again.  This 
is  weakness,  I know.  My  spirits  will  doubtless  re- 
bound from  the  pressure  as  soon  as  I can  fairly  get  to 
work.  Work!  work!  that  is  my  unfailing  cure  for 
all  troubles.  . . . 

I am  greatly  delighted  with  Mrs.  Browning’s 
“ Aurora  Leigh.”  It  is  full  of  strong  things,  and 
brilliant  things,  and  beautiful  things.  And  how  glad 
I am  to  see  modern  literature  tending  so  much  toward 
the  breaking  down  of  social  distinctions ! 

1 Death  of  her  father. 


88 


LETTERS. 


TO  DAVID  LEE  CHILD. 

Wayland,  January  7,  1857. 

When  will  my  dear  good  David  come  ? I stayed 
nine  days  in  Boston,  Medford,  and  Cambridge,  and 
returned  here  New  Year’s  Day.  I had  a variety  of 
experiences,  nearly  all  of  them  pleasant ; but  they 
are  better  to  tell  than  to  write.  I shall  have  a great 
budget  to  open  when  you  come.  I received  a letter 
and  a Berkshire  paper  from  you. 

Charles  Sumner  called  to  see  me  and  brought  me 
his  photograph.  We  talked  together  two  hours,  and 
I never  received  such  an  impression  of  holiness  from 
mortal  man.  Not  an  ungentle  word  did  he  utter  con- 
cerning Brooks  or  any  of  the  political  enemies  who 
have  been  slandering  and  insulting  him  for  years. 
He  only  regretted  the  existence  of  a vicious  institu- 
tion which  inevitably  barbarized  those  who  grew  up 
under  its  influence. 

Henry  Wilson  came  into  the  anti-slavery  fair,  and 
I talked  with  him  an  hour  or  so.  He  told  me  I could 
form  no  idea  of  the  state  of  things  in  Washington.  As 
he  passes  through  the  streets  in  the  evening,  he  says 
the  air  is  filled  with  yells  and  curses  from  the  oyster 
shops  and  gambling  saloons,  the  burden  of  which  is 
all  manner  of  threatened  violence  to  Seward  and  Sum- 
ner and  W’^ilson  and  Burlingame.  While  he  was 
making  his  last  speech,  the  Southern  members  tried 
to  insult  him  in  every  way.  One  of  them  actually 
brandished  his  cane  as  if  about  to  strike  him,  but  he 
Ignored  the  presence  of  him  and  his  cane,  and  went 
on  with  his  speech.  He  says  he  never  leaves  his  room 
to  go  into  the  Senate  without  thinking  whether  he  has 
left  everything  arranged  as  he  should  wish  if  he  were 
never  to  return  to  it  alive. 


LETTERS. 


89 


What  do  you  think  Edmund  Benson  sent  me  for  a 
Christmas  present  ? An  order  for  one  hundred  dol- 
lars, to  be  used  for  Kansas ! 

TO  PROF.  CONYERS  FRANCIS. 

Wayland,  January  9,  1857. 

As  for  the  rank  which  the  world  assigns  to  one  avo- 
cation over  another,  I can  hardly  find  words  significant 
enough  to  express  the  low  estimate  I put  upon  it. 
The  lawyer  who  feels  above  the  bookseller  seems  to 
me  just  as  ridiculous  as  the  orange-woman  who  ob- 
jected to  selling  Hannah  More’s  tracts.  “ I sell  bal- 
lads ! ” she  exclaimed.  “ Why,  I don’t  even  sell  ap- 
ples ! ” How  absurdly  we  poor  blundering  mortals 
lose  sight  of  the  reality  of  things,  under  the  veil  of 
appearances ! In  choosing  an  employment,  it  seems 
to  me  the  only  question  to  be  asked  is.  What  are  we 
^est  fitted  for  ? and  What  do  we  most  enjoy  doing  ? 

TO  MISS  LUCY  OSGOOD. 

Wayland,  1857. 

I have  lately  been  much  interested  about  the  young 
Kentucky  lady  ^ who  emancipated  all  her  slaves,  in 
consequence  of  reading  Charles  Sumner’s  speeches. 
She  and  I correspond,  as  mother  and  daughter,  and 
I should  infer  from  her  letters,  even  if  I knew  noth- 
ing else  about  her,  that  she  was  endowed  with  a no- 
ble, generous,  sincere,  and  enthusiastic  nature.  It  is 
no  slight  sacrifice,  at  nineteen  years  old,  to  give  up 
all  one’s  property,  and  go  forth  into  the  world  to  earn 
lier  own  living,  penniless  and  friendless;  “but  I 
shall  earn  my  living  with  a light  heart,  because  I shall 
have  a clean  conscience.”  I quote  her  own  words, 


1 Miss  Mattie  Griffith. 


90 


LETTERS. 


which  she  wrote  in  an  hour  of  sadness,  in  consequence 
of  being  cut  by  friends,  reproached  by  relations,  and 
deluged  with  insulting  letters  from  ever}’-  part  of  the 
South.  Her  relatives  resort  to  both  coaxing  and 
threatening,  to  induce  her  publicly  to  deny  tha  she 
wrote  the  “ Autobiography  of  a Female  Slave.”  The 
truthfulness  of  her  nature  fires  up  at  this.  In  one  of 
lier  letters  to  me  she  says,  “ What  a mean  thing  they 
would  make  of  me  ! I ’ll  die  first.”  She  is  true 
metal,  and  rings  clear  under  their  blows.  Yet  she 
has  a loving,  womanly  heart,  made  desolate  and  sad 
by  separation  from  early  friends.  We  abolitionists 
ouglit  to  rally  round  the  noble  young  martyr.  I wish 
you  had  a chance  to  get  acquainted  with  her.  She 
struck  me  as  quite  a remarkable  young  person. 

More  and  more  I become  convinced  that  there  is 
a natural  difference  in  the  organization  of  people. 
There  is  Mattie,  brought  up  in  a slave-holding  com- 
munity, and  under  the  influence  of  an  intensely  aris- 
tocratic family,  yet,  from  her  earliest  years,  sponta- 
neously giving  all  her  sympathies  to  the  poor.  When 
she  went  to  school,  she  was  a great  pet  with  a 
wealthy  lady,  a friend  of  her  grandfather’s.  The 
lady  hired  a slave  of  the  grandfather,  and  caused 
her  to  be  whipped  for  some  offence.  Mattie  heard 
of  it,  on  her  way  from  school,  and  rushed  into  the 
lady’s  house  to  pour  forth  her  boiling  indignation. 
She  called  her  a “ cruel  monster,”  and  told  her  that 
“the  blue  flames  of  hell  were  preparing  for  those 
who  treated  poor  people  so  ! ” The  lady  tried  to 
pacify  her,  and  asked  her  to  sit  down  and  have  some 
cake.  “ I don’t  want  to  sit  down  in  your  house ! ” 
she  exclaimed  ; and  off  she  went.  The  grandfather 
tried  to  make  her  apologize  to  the  lady  for  her  rude- 


LETTERS. 


91 


ness.  Finding  persuasion  useless,  he  kept  her  in  the 
garret  three  days  on  bread  and  water.  It  was  of 
no  use,  the  child  always  had  the  same  answer.  “ She 
is  a cruel  monster.  It  is  the  truth.  I am  not  sorry 
I said  it,  and  I can't  say  I am  sorry.”  The  grand- 
father’s will  gave  up  to  the  firmness  of  her  conscien- 
tious convictions.  M.  never  apologized.  That  early 
incident  shows  that  she  is  of  the  stuff  martyrs  are 
made  of.  . . . 

I suppose  you  have  heard  what  a glorious  time 
Mattie  had  when  she  emancipated  her  slaves.  They 
danced  and  sang  and  sobbed,  and  would  have  kissed 
her  feet,  had  she  permitted.  Then  they  began  to 
think  of  her,  and  insisted  upon  continuing  to  send 
their  wages  to  her,  because  she  was  not  strong  enough 
to  work.  When  she  refused,  they  pleaded  hard  to 
send  her  half  their  earnings.  She  wrote  to  me  about 
it,  and  added,  “ I assure  you,  dear  Mrs.  Child,  there 
are  very  few  people  who  know  the  real  beauty  of  the 
African  character.”  I believe  it. 

TO  THE  SAME. 

, Wayland,  1857. 

I have  seldom  had  such  a day  as  the  delightful  one 
passed  with  you  and  David  Wasson.  I have  marked 
it  in  my  pilgrimage  by  a golden  pillar,  hung  with 
amaranth  garlands.  I said  he  was  poet,  philosopher, 
and  priest.  During  the  evening  that  I subsequently 
spent  with  him  I found  he  was  also  full  of  fun.  I 
might  have  known  it,  indeed,  by  those  eyes  of  his, 
that  look  out  so  smiling  upon  the  world.  It  is  many 
a day  since  I have  met  with  such  a real  child  of  God 
and  Nature.  He  will  not  be  popular,  of  course  ; for 

“ Souls  are  daugerous  things  to  carry  straight 
Through  all  the  spilt  saltpetre  of  this  world.” 


92 


LETTERS. 


As  for  “ come-outerism,”  I assure  you  that  if  I could 
only  find  a church,  I would  nestle  into  it  as  gladly  as 
a bird  ever  nestled  into  her  covert  in  a storm.  I 
have  stayed  away  from  meeting,  because  one  offered 
me  petrifactions,  and  another  gas,  when  I was  hungry 
for  bread.  I have  an  unfortunate  sincerity,  which 
demands  living  realities,  and  will  not  be  put  off  with 
respectable  shams.  I sometimes  wish  it  were  other- 
wise ; there  is  such  a plenty  of  respectable  shams  to 
be  had  without  the  seeking.  Another  thing  that  I 
reall}^  feel  the  want  of  is  one  or  two  sympathizing 
friends  witli  a sufficient  degree  of  culture  to  make 
intercourse  easy  and  mutually  agreeable.  I am  well 
aware  that  it  is  not  good  to  live  so  much  alone  as  I 
do  ; but  I see  no  help  for  it.  Better  to  be  forever 
alone  than  to  have  an  indiscriminate  inrush  of  the 
world  into  one’s  sanctum.  I find  the  problem  of  use- 
ful and  agreeable  social  intercourse  a very  hard  one 
to  solve.  If  our  minister,  Mr.  Sears,  were  near  by,  I 
should  scarcely  feel  the  need  of  any  other  society ; 
for  his  mind  and  heart  are  full  to  overflowing.  But 
unfortunately  he  lives  two  miles  off,  on  an  out-of-the- 
way  road,  and  it  is  a job  to  get  to  him.  He  has 
lately  been  preaching  a series  of  beautiful  sermons  on 
the  immortality  of  the  soul.  The  one  last  Sunday 
was  on  entering  upon  immortality  through  the  long 
pathway  of  old  age.  It  was  excellent  in  itself,  and 
interested  me  so  much  by  its  association  with  my 
good  old  father  that  I borrowed  it,  and  made  copious 
extracts.  To  me  there  is  a peculiar  charm  in  Mr. 
Sears’  preaching  ; for  a kind  of  lunar-halo  of  Sweden- 
borgianism  surrounds  it.  My  first  and  deepest  relig- 
ious experience  came  to  me  through  that  medium ; 
and  such  an  experience  is  never  entirely  forgotten  by 


LETTERS. 


93 


the  soul.  The  angel  of  my  youth  calls  to  me  through 
Mr.  Sears’  preaching.  Ah,  would  to  God  he  could 
give  me  back  the  undoubting  faith,  the  poetic  rap- 
ture of  spiritual  insight,  which  I then  enjoyed  ! But 
it  cannot  be.  That  was  a state  of  childhood  ; and 
childhood  will  pass  away.  The  intellect  will  call 
aloud  to  the  Infinite,  and  it  receives  no  answer  but 
the  echo  of  its  own  voice.  If  the  problem  of  our  ex- 
istence is  not  solved  elsewhere,  how  cruel  must  be 
the  Being  that  placed  us  here  ! Meanwhile,  nothing 
surprises  me  more  than  that  men  should  judge  so 
harshly  of  each  other  for  believing,  or  not  believing, 
since  it  is  a thing  obviously  beyond  our  control.  The 
man  educated  at  Seville  cannot  see  spiritual  things 
in  the  same  light  that  they  are  seen  by  the  man  edu- 
cated in  Boston.  At  fifty  years  of  age,  it  is  out  of 
our  power  to  believe  many  things  that  we  believed  at 
twenty.  Our  states  have  changed  by  slow  degrees, 
as  the  delicate  blossom  changes  to  the  dry  seed-vessel. 
We  may  weep  for  the  lost  blossom,  but  it  avails  not. 
“ Violets  dead  the  sweetest  showers  will  ne’er  make 
grow  again.”  But,  thanks  to  the  Heavenly  Father, 
in  the  dry  seed-vessel  lies  the  embryo  of  future  flow- 
ers ! 

TO  MRS.  S.  B.  SHAW. 

Wayland,  1857. 

It  is  a dark,  drizzling  day,  and  I am  going  to  make 
sunshine  for  myself  by  sitting  down  before  the  old 
fire-place  and  having  a cosy  chat  with  you.  Did  you 

see  Mr.  H ’s  sermon,  preached  soon  after  his 

return  from  Palestine  ? He  thinks  the  truth  of  the 
Bible  is  proved  by  the  fact  that  Jordan  is  still  flow- 
ing and  the  Mount  of  Olives  still  standing.  He  says 
his  faith  was  greatly  strengthened  by  a sight  of  them 


94 


LETTERS. 


By  the  same  token  lie  ought  to  consider  Grecian 
mythology  proved,  because  Olympus  and  Parnassus 
are  still  standing ; and  a sight  of  them  ouglit  to 
strengthen  his  faith  in  Jupiter  and  the  Muses.  What 
a fuss  they  have  made  about  finding  the  name  of 
Jonali  among  the  inscriptions  at  Nineveh ! Does 
that  prove  that  the  whale  swallowed  him,  and  that 
he  did  not  “ set  easy  ” on  the  whale’s  stomach  ? I 
can  never  get  over  wondering  at  the  external  tend- 
ency of  a large  class  of  minds. 

TO  MISS  ANNA  LORINO. 

Wayland,  December  10,  1857. 

I wanted  very  much  to  introduce  to  you  a baby  I 
met  in  the  cars.  She  was  a fat  little  thing,  not  two 
years  old,  but  as  quick  as  a steel-trap.  She  was  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  cars,  but  insisted  upon  trying 
to  stretch  her  short  fat  arm  across  to  me,  with  her 
hand  open,  repeating,  “ How  do  ? ” “I  am  pretty 
well,”  said  I.  “ How  do  you  do  ? ” “ Mart  ” (smart), 
was  her  quick  reply.  And  this  scene  she  wanted  to 
enact  every  five  minutes,  to  the  great  amusement  of 
those  around  her.  At  last  a little  boy  came  in,  about 
a year  older  than  herself,  and  was  placed  on  the  seat 
behind  her.  Feeling  the  necessity  of  keeping  up  the 
character  of  her  sex  for  propriety,  she  took  a good 
deal  of  trouble  to  get  at  him,  and  push  him,  saying, 
“ You  do  ’way  ! you  do  ’way  ! ” The  boy,  who  seemed 
to  be  as  timid  as  she  was  “ mart,”  shrunk  himself  up 
as  close  as  possible,  probably  having  a prophetic 
sense  of  the  position  it  becomes  his  sex  to  assume,  if 
they  regard  their  own  safety,  in  these  days  when 
women  are  getting  to  be  so  “ mart.”  At  last  he 
climbed  the  seat  and  turned  his  back  to  her.  . . . 


LETTERS. 


95 


She  could  not  stand  being  taken  no  notice  of.  So  she 
swung  her  little  fat  person  over  the  back  of  her  seat, 
to  the  imminent  peril  of  falling,  and  began  to  poke 
at  him,  calling  out,  “ Boy  ! boy  ! ” He  completely 
withdrew  her  attention  from  me.  But  I could  n’t 
help  watching  her,  she  was  such  a funny  little  im- 
personation of  human  nature.  I fell  to  moralizing, 
thinking  to  myself  what  a cheerful  world  it  would 
be  if  we  all  ignored  ranks  and  sexes  and  sects  and 
barriers  of  all  sorts,  and  went  about  with  open  palm 
outstretched  to  everybody,  saying,  “How  do?”  If 
we  could  only  do  that,  the  world’s  answer  would 
always  be,  “ Mart.” 

TO  MISS  LUCY  OSGOOD. 

Watland,  1858. 

I was  just  about  answering  your  welcome  letter, 
when  that  overwhelming  blow  ^ came  suddenly,  and 
for  a time  seemed  to  crush  all  life  and  hope  out  of 
me.  Nothing  but  the  death  of  my  kind  husband 
could  have  caused  me  such  bitter  grief.  Then  came 
your  precious  letter  of  sympathy  and  condolence.  I 
thanked  you  for  it,  from  the  depths  of  my  suffering 
heart ; but  I did  not  feel  as  if  I could  summon  energy 
to  write  to  any  but  the  bereaved  ones  of  his  own 
household.  You  know  that  he  was  a valuable  friend 
to  me,  but  no  one  but  myself  could  know  how  valu- 
able. For  thirty  years  he  has  been  my  chief  reli- 
ance. In  moral  perplexities  I always  went  to  him 
for  counsel,  and  he  never  failed  to  clear  away  every 
cloud.  In  all  worldly  troubles  I went  to  him,  and 
always  found  a judicious  adviser,  a sympathizing 
friend,  a generous  helper.  He  was  only  two  months 

1 Death  of  Ellis  Gray  Loring. 


96 


LETTERS. 


younger  than  myself,  but  I had  so  long  been  accus- 
tomed to  lean  upon  him,  that  the  thought  never  oc- 
curred to  me  that  it  was  possible  that  I might  be 
left  in  the  world  without  him.  All  my  plans  for 
old  age  were  based  upon  him ; all  my  little  property 
was  in  his  hands  ; and  if  I had  ever  so  small  a sum, 
even  ten  dollars,  for  which  I had  no  immediate  use, 
he  put  it  on  interest,  though  it  were  but  for  a single 
month.  But  the  loss  in  this  point  of  view  seems  tri- 
lling compared  to  the  desolation  his  death  has  made  in 
my  affections.  If  I could  only  hear  his  gentle  voice 
again,  I would  be  willing  to  throw  all  the  dollars  into 
the  sea.  Oh,  this  dreadful  silence ! How  heavily  the 
dark  veil  drops  down  between  us  and  that  unknown 
world  ! Whether  it  be  the  vividness  of  memory,  or 
whether  he  is  actually  near  me,  I know  not,  — but  I 
have  the  impression  of  the  perpetual  presence  of  his 
spirit  wdth  singular  distinctness.  The  presence,  be  it 
real  or  imaginary,  has  the  same  influence  over  me 
that  he  always  had  while  on  earth.  It  soothes  me, 
makes  me  feel  calm  and  strong.  I think  your  friend 
Samuel  Johnson  wrote  the  best  hymn  for  the  occasion 
I ever  read.  I mean  the  one  he  wrote  for  Mr.  Long- 
fellow. Blessings  be  with  you. 

TO  DAVID  LEE  CHILD. 

Wayland,  June  20,  1858. 

I was  thankful  to  receive  your  kind  letter.  You 
say  you  hope  we  had  some  drops  of  rain  here.  Such 
a storm  as  we  had  I have  seldom  witnessed.  The 
day  after  you  went  away,  there  came  one  of  those 
dreadful  hurricanes  of  wind,  smashing  my  flowers 
and  tearing  everything,  right  and  left.  I was  in 
hopes  it  would  go  down  with  the  sun,  but  it  did  not. 


LETTERS. 


97 


Whenever  I woke  in  the  night  I heard  everything 
rocking  and  reeling.  In  the  morning  I went  to  look 
after  the  poor  little  sparrow  in  the  rose-bush,  whom  I 
had  seen  the  day  before,  shutting  her  eyes  hard  and 
sticking  tight  to  her  nest,  which  was  tossed  about  like 
a ship  in  a heavy  gale.  I wanted  much  to  help  her, 
but  could  not.  Next  morning  I found  the  nest  nearly 
wrenched  from  the  busk  and  two  of  the  eggs  on  the 
ground.  They  were  still  warm,  so  I replaced  them, 
righted  the  nest  and  fastened  it  to  the  twigs  with 
s-trings.  To  my  great  surprise  she  returned  to  her 
patient  labor  of  incubation.  . . . 

Mrs.  S.  returned  on  Friday,  and  I went  as  far  as 
Boston  with  her.  The  day  was  so  intensely  hot  that 
I regretted  having  put  my  head  into  the  city.  But 
as  I was  toiling  along  I heard  a voice  behind  me  ex- 
claim, “ Maria  Child  ! ” I turned  and  recognized 
John  G.  Whittier.  He  said  he  had  missed  the  cars 
by  some  mistake,  but  now  he  felt  the  disappointment 
was  providential ; he  had  for  a long  time  so  wanted 
to  see  me.  I could  not  bear  to  go  into  the  office 
where  I had  been  accustomed  to  take  my  friends.  I 
knew  the  empty  chair  of  that  dear  lost  friend  ^ would 
be  too  much  for  me.  So  I asked  him  into  H.’s  office, 
and  there  we  chatted  an  hour.  Mrs.  S.  regretted 
your  absence,  left  kind  remembrances  for  you,  and 
told  me  I was  “ a happy  woman  to  have  a husband 
that  wrote  me  such  charming  love  letters.”  I told 
her  I thought  so  too. 

1 Ellis  Gray  Loring. 


7 


98 


LETTERS. 


TO  PROF.  CONYERS  FRANCIS. 

Wayland,  August  8,  1858. 

I think  you  have  done  a vast  amount  of  good  in 
many  ways.  Your  conversation  always  tends  to  en- 
large and  liberalize  the  minds  with  which  you  come 
in  contact ; more  than  a dozen  times  I have  heard 
people  speak  of  the  good  your  sympathizing  words 
have  done  them  in  times  of  affliction ; and  for  my- 
self, I can  say  most  truly  before  God  that  I con- 
sider such  intellectual  culture  as  I have  mainly  attrib- 
utable to  your  influence  ; and  most  sincerely  can  I 
say,  moreover,  that  up  to  this  present  hour  I prize  a 
chance  for  communion  with  your  mind  more  than  I 
do  with  any  other  person  I know.  ...  In  a literary 
point  of  view,  I know  that  I have  only  a local  repu- 
tation, “ done  in  Avater-colors.”  ...  I am  not  what 
I aspired  to  be  in  my  days  of  young  ambition  ; but 
I have  become  humble  enough  to  be  satisfied  with  the 
conviction  that  what  I have  written  has  always  been 
written  conscientiously ; that  I have  always  spoken 
with  sincerity,  if  not  with  power.  In  every  direction 
I see  young  giants  rushing  past  me,  at  times  pushing 
me  somewhat  rudely  in  their  speed,  but  I am  glad  to 
see  such  strong  laborers  to  plough  the  land  and  sow  . 
the  seed  for  coming  years. 

TO  MRS.  S.  B.  SHAW. 

Wayland,  1858. 

There  is  compensation  in  all  things.  igno- 

rance and  my  poverty  both  have  their  advantages. 
You  can  never  take  such  child-like  delight  in  a*  little 
picture,  engraving,  or  statuette,  as  I do.  Now,  while 
I write,  Beauty  keeps  drawing  me  away  from  my 


LETTERS. 


99 


letter.  I stop  with  my  pen  poised  in  air,  to  contem- 
plate my  Galatea,  my  St.  Cecilia,  my  Flying  Hour  of 
the  Night,  my  palace  in  Venice,  ray  young  Bacchus, 
my  glowing  nasturtium,  and  my  vase  of  tremulous 
grass.  Decidedly,  there  are  many  compensations  for 
those  who  are  poor,  and  have  never  seen  the  world. 

The  landscape  in  front  of  the  window  is  lovely.  No 
sharp  frost  has  come  to  blight  the  foliage,  and  the 
scenery  is  like  a handsome  woman  of  fifty,  whom 
Time  has  touched  so  lightly  that  her  girlish  delicacy 
of  beauty  is  merely  deepened  and  warmed  with  a few 
autumnal  tints.  Thus  gently  may  you  glide  into  the 
frosted  silver  of  a bright  old  age!  It  must  be  so, 
dearest,  because  so  many  are  cheered  by  your  heart 
warmth. 

TO  MRS.  LUCY  OSGOOD. 

Wayland,  January  16,  1859. 

I have  buckled  to  Buckle’s  “ History  of  Civili- 
zation,” though  I said  I would  not  read  it  because  I 
dreaded  being  made  uncomfortable  by  the  point  of 
view  from  which  he  looks  at  things.  This  making 
moral  progress  depend  entirely  on  intellectual  prog- 
ress seems  to  turn  things  so  inside  out  that  it  twists 
my  poor  brain.  I care  more  that  the  world  should 
grow  better,  than  it  should  grow  wiser.  The  exter- 
nal must  be  developed  from  the  internal.  It  makes 
my  head  ache  to  look  at  human  growth  from  any 
other  point  of  view.  That  is  the  great  mistake  of 
Fourier.  He  is  wise  and  great,  and  often  prophetic, 
but  he  thinks  to  produce  perfect  men  by  surround- 
ing them  with  perfect  circumstances  ; whereas  the 
perfect  circumstances  must  be  the  result  of  per- 
fect men.  How  can  the  marriage  relation,  for  in- 
stance, be  well  ordered,  until  men  and  women  are 


100 


LETTERS. 


more  pure  ? I have  no  sympathy  with  the  doctrine 
that 

“ The  body,  not  the  soul, 

Governs  the  unfettered  whole/’ 

Then  I am  tempted  full  strongly  enough  to  believe 
Emerson’s  axiom,  “ We  only  row,  we  ’re  steered  by 
Fate,”  without  having  Buckle  write  a bulky  volume 
to  convince  me  ; for  when  I think  I am  steered,  I 
immediately  become  tired  of  rowing.  But  there  is 
no  help  for  it.  I must  read  every  word  of  Buckle. 
It  seems  to  me  the  most  remarkable  book  of  the  age ; 
bold,  clear,  strong,  comprehensive,  candid,  and,  above 
all,  free.  He  pulls  out  all  the  linch-pins  from  the 
wheels  of  Juggernaut  without  any  sign  of  hesitation. 
“ Some  think  it  will  spoil  the  old  cart ; and  they  pre- 
tend to  say  there  are  valuable  things  in  it  which  may 
get  hurt.  Hope  not  — hope  not.”  The  fact  is,  I 
shall  never  be  easy  till  you  read  it,  and  write  me  your 
opinion  of  it.  It  delights  me,  with  none  of  the  mod- 
ern affectations  of  style  ; no  resuscitated  words,  whose 
only  merit  is  their  obsoleteness  ; no  inverted  sen- 
tences ; no  parentheses  within  parentheses  ; no  clouds 
of  language  between  the  reader  and  the  subject;  no 
vague  Orphic  sayings,  which  may  mean  one  thing,  or 
another  thing,  or  no  thing.  “ Which  things  I hate,” 
as  saith  the  apostle.  I get  so  vexed  with  writers 
that  send  me  to  the  dictionary  a dozen  times  an  hour 
to  decipher  my  own  language  ! It ’s  the  fashion  now- 
adays. I suppose  it  was  in  ancient  times  also,  for 
doth  not  Aristophanes  say,  “I  hate  their  peacock 
trains,  their  six-foot  words,. and  swell  of  ostentation  ” ? 
None  of  this  in  Buckle.  He  is  a full,  deep  river, 
showing  clearly  every  pebble  over  which  it  flows. 
But  I don’t  agree  with  all  his  statements.  He  says 


LETTERS. 


101 


that  moral  truths  were  exactly  the  same  as  they  are 
now  ages  ago  ; that  intellect  is  the  sole  cause  of  prog- 
ress. Now  I have  considerable  to  say  on  that  sub- 
ject ; but  I want  to  hear  what  you  have  to  say. 
Perhaps  the  term  he  uses  is  more  at  fault  than  the 
idea  he  intends  to  convey. 

LINES  WRITTEN  BY  MRS.  CHILD  ON  THE  ANNIVERSARY 
OP  THE  DEATH  OF  ELLIS  GRAY  LORING.^ 

May  24,  1859. 

Again  the  trees  are  clothed  in  vernal  green  ; 

Again  the  waters  flow  in  silvery  sheen  ; 

But  all  this  beauty  through  a mist  I see, 

For  earth  bloomed  thus  when  thou  wert  lost  to  me. 

The  flowers  come  back,  the  tuneful  birds  return. 

But  thou  for  whom  my  spirit  still  doth  yearn 
Art  gone  from  me  to  spheres  so  bright  and  far. 

Thou  seem’st  the  spirit  of  some  distant  star. 

0 for  some  telegram  from  thee,  my  friend  ! 

Some  whispered  answer  to  the  love  I send  ! 

Or  one  brief  glance  from  those  dear  guileless  eyes. 

That  smiled  to  me  so  sweetly  thy  replies. 

My  heart  is  hungry  for  thy  gentle  ways. 

Thy  friendly  counsels,  and  thy  precious  praise ; 

1 seem  to  travel  through  the  dark  alone. 

Since  thou,  my  wisest,  truest  guide  art  gone. 

And  yet  at  times  so  near  thou  art  to  me 

That  each  good  thought  seems  still  inspired  by  thee : 

I almost  hear  thee  say,  “ Fear  not,  my  friend. 

That  friendship  pure  and  loyal  e’er  can  end.” 

1 These  verses  of  Mrs.  Child,  though  written  on  the  first  anniver- 
sary of  Mr.  Loring’s  death,  were  not  published  till  some  years  after, 
which  accounts  for  the  allusions  to  the  extinction  of  slavery  in  Mr. 
Whittier’s  response. 


102 


LETTERS. 


O keep  me  ever  near  thy  holy  sphere, 

O guide  and  help  me  as  thou  didst  while  here, 

For  still  I lean  on  thy  pure,  faithful  heart, 

Angel  or  seraph,  wheresoe’er  thou  art. 

LINES  TO  L.  M.  CHILD,  IN  RESPONSE  TO  HER  VERSES  ON 
THE  DEATH  OF  ELLIS  GRAY  LORING. 

BY  JOHN  G.  WHITTIER. 

The  sweet  spring  day  is  glad  with  music. 

But  through  it  sounds  a sadder  strain, 

The  worthiest  of  our  narrowing  circle 
Sings  Boring’s  dirges  o’er  again. 

0 woman  greatly  loved  ! 1 join  thee 
In  tender  memories  of  our  friend ; 

With  thee  across  the  awful  spaces. 

The  greeting  of  a soul  I send. 

What  cheer  hath  he  ? How  is  it  with  him  ? 

Where  lingers  he  this  weary  while  ? 

Over  what  pleasant  fields  of  heaven 

Dawns  the  sweet  sunshine  of  his  smile  ? 

Does  he  not  know  our  feet  are  treading 
The  earth  hard  down  on  Slavery’s  grave  ? 

That  in  our  crowning  exultations 

We  miss  the  charm  his  presence  gave  ? 

Why  on  this  spring  air  comes  no  whisper 
From  him  to  tell  us  all  is  well? 

Why  to  our  fiower  time  comes  no  token 
Of  lily  and  of  asphodel  ? 

1 feel  the  unutterable  longing, 

Thy  hunger  of  the  heart  is  mine  ; 

I reach  and  grasp  for  hands  in  darkness, 

My  ear  grows  sharp  for  voice  or  sign. 


LETTERS. 


103 


Still  on  the  lips  of  all  we  question, 

The  finger  of  God’s  silence  lies  ; 

Will  the  lost  hands  in  ours  be  folded  ? 

Will  the  shut  eyelids  ever  rise  ? 

O friend,  no  proof  beyond  this  yearning. 
This  outreach  of  our  hearts,  we  need ; 

God  will  not  mock  the  hope  he  giveth. 

No  love  he  prompts  shall  vainly  plead. 

Then  let  us  stretch  our  hands  in  darkness. 
And  call  our  loved  ones  o’er  and  o’er  ; 

Some  day  their  arms  shall  close  about  us. 
And  the  old  voices  speak  once  more. 

No  dreary  splendors  wait  our  coming 
Where  rapt  ghost  sits  from  ghost  apart ; 

Homeward  we  go  to  Heaven’s  thanksgiving. 
The  harvest  gathering  of  the  heart. 


CORKESPONDENCE  BETWEEN  MRS.  CHILD,  JOHN 
BROWN,  AND  GOVERNOR  WISE  AND  MRS.  MASON 
OF  VIRGINIA. 


TO  GOVERNOR  HENRY  A.  WISE. 

Wayland,  Mass.,  October  26,  1859. 

Governor  Wise,  — I have  heard  that  you  were  a 
man  of  chivalrous  sentiments,  and  I know  you  were 
opposed  to  the  iniquitous  attempt  to  force  upon  Kan- 
sas a Constitution  abhorrent  to  the  moral  sense  of 
her  people.  Rel}dng  upon  these  indications  of  honor 
and  justice  in  your  character,  I venture  to  ask  a favor 
of  you.  Inclosed  is  a letter  to  Captain  John  Brown. 


104 


LETTERS. 


Will  you  have  the  kindness,  after  reading  it  yourself, 
to  transmit  it  to  the  prisoner  ? 

I and  all  my  large  circle  of  abolition  acquaintances 
were  taken  by  surprise  when  news  came  of  Captain 
Brown’s  recent  attempt ; nor  do  I know  of  a single 
person  who  would  have  approved  of  it,  had  they  been 
apprised  of  his  intention.  But  I and  thousands  of 
others  feel  a natural  impulse  of  sympathy  for  the 
brave  and  suffering  man.  Perhaps  God,  who  sees 
the  inmost  of  our  souls,  perceives  some  such  senti- 
ment in  3^our  heart  also.  He  needs  a mother  or 
sister  to  dress  his  wounds,  and  speak  soothingly  to 
him.  Will  you  allow  me  to  perform  that  mission  of 
humanity  ? If  you  will,  may  God  bless  you  for  the 
generous  deed  ! 

I have  been  for  years  an  uncompromising  aboli- 
tionist, and  I should  scorn  to  deny  it  or  apologize  for 
it  as  much  as  John  Brown  himself  would  do.  Be- 
lieving in  peace  principles,  I deeply  regret  the  step 
that  the  old  veteran  has  taken,  while  I honor  his 
humanity  towards  those  who  became  his  prisoners. 
But  because  it  is  my  habit  to  be  as  open  as  the  day- 
light, I will  also  say,  that  if  I believed  our  religion 
justified  men  in  fighting  for  freedom,  I should  con- 
sider the  enslaved  everywhere  as  best  entitled  to 
that  right.  Such  an  avowal  is  a simple,  frank  ex- 
pression of  my  sense  of  natural  justice. 

But  I should  despise  myself  utterly  if  any  circum- 
stances could  tempt  me  to  seek  to  advance  these 
opinions  in  any  way,  directly  or  indirectly,  after  your 
permission  to  visit  Virginia  has  been  obtained  on  the 
plea  of  sisterl}^  sympathy  with  a brave  and  suffering 
man.  I give  you  my  word  of  honor,  which  was  never 
broken,  that  I would  use  such  permission  solely  and 


LETTERS.  105 

singly  fop  the  purpose  of  nursing  your  prisoner,  and 
for  no  other  purpose  whatsoever. 

Yours  respectfully, 

L.  Maeia  Child. 

REPLY  OF  GOVERNOR  WISE. 

Richmond,  Va.,  October  29,  1859. 

Madam,  — Yours  of  the  26th  was  received  by  me 
yesterday,  and  at  my  earliest  leisure  I respectfully 
reply  to  it,  that  I will  forward  the  letter  for  John 
Brown,  a prisoner  under  our  laws,  arraigned  at  the 
Circuit  Court  for  the  county  of  Jefferson,  at  Charles- 
town, Va.,  for  the  crimes  of  murder,  robbery,  and 
treason,  which  you  ask  me  to  transmit  to  him.  I 
will  comply  with  your  request  in  the  only  way  which 
seems  to  me  proper,  by  inclosing  it  to  the  Common- 
wealth’s attorney,  with  the  request  that  he  will  ask 
the  permission  of  the  court  to  hand  it  to  the  pris- 
oner. Brown,  the  prisoner,  is  now  in  the  hands  of 
the  judiciary,  not  of  the  executive,  of  this  Common- 
wealth. 

You  ask  me,  further,  to  allow  you  to  perform  the 
mission  ‘‘of  mother  or  sister,  to  dress  his  wounds, 
and  speak  soothingly  to  him.”  By  this,  of  course, 
you  mean  to  be  allowed  to  visit  him  in  his  cell,  and 
to  minister  to  him  in  the  offices  of  humanity.  Why 
should  you  not  be  so  allowed,  Madam  ? Virginia  and 
Massachusetts  are  involved  in  no  civil  war,  and  the 
Constitution  which  unites  them  in  one  confederacy 
guaranties  to  you  the  privileges  and  immunities  of  a 
citizen  of  the  United  States  in  the  State  of  Virginia. 
That  Constitution  I am  sworn  to  support,  and  am, 
therefore,  bound  to  protect  your  privileges  and  im- 
munities as  a citizen  of  Massachusetts  coming  into 
Virginia  for  any  lawful  and  peaceful  purpose. 


106 


LETTERS. 


Coming,  as  you  propose,  to  minister  to  the  captive 
in  prison,  you  will  be  met,  doubtless,  by  all  our  peo- 
ple, not  only  in  a chivalrous,  but  in  a Christian  spirit. 
You  have  the  right  to  visit  Charlestown,  Va., 
Madam ; and  your  mission,  being  merciful  and  hu- 
mane, will  not  only  be  allowed,  but  respected,  if  not 
welcomed.  A few  unenlightened  and  inconsiderate 
persons,  fanatical  in  their  modes  of  thought  and  ac- 
tion to  maintain  justice  and  right,  might  molest  you, 
or  be  disposed  to  do  so ; and  this  might  suggest  the 
imprudence  of  risking  any  experiment  upon  the  peace 
of  a society  very  much  excited  by  the  crimes  with 
whose  chief  author  you  seem  to  sympathize  so  much. 
But  still,  I repeat,  your  motives  and  avowed  purpose 
are  lawful  and  peaceful,  and  I will,  as  far  as  I am 
concerned,  do  my  duty  in  protecting  your  rights  in 
our  limits.  Virginia  and  her  authorities  would  be 
weak  indeed  — weak  in  point  of  folly,  and  weak  in 
point  of  power  — if  her  State  faith  and  constitutional 
obligations  cannot  be  redeemed  in  her  own  limits  to 
the  letter  of  morality  as  well  as  of  law ; and  if  her 
chivalry  cannot  courteously  receive  a lady’s  visit  to  a 
prisoner,  every  arm  which  guards  Brown  from  rescue 
on  the  one  hand,  and  from  Ijmch  law  on  the  other, 
will  be  ready  to  guard  your  person  in  Virginia. 

I could  not  permit  an  insult  even  to  woman  in  her 
walk  of  charity  among  us,  though  it  be  to  one  who 
whetted  knives  of  butchery  for  our  mothers,  sisters, 
daughters,  and  babes.  We  have  no  sympathy  with 
your  sentiments  of  sympathy  with  Brown,  and  are 
surprised  that  you  were  “ taken  by  surprise  when 
news  came  of  Captain  Brown’s  recent  attempt.”  His 
attempt  was  a natural  consequence  of  your  sympathy, 
and  the  errors  of  that  sympathy  ought  to  make  you 


LETTERS. 


107 


doubt  its  virtue  from  the  effect  on  his  conduct.  But 
it  is  not  of  this  I should  speak.  When  you  arrive  at 
Charlestown,  if  you  go  there,  it  will  be  for  the  court 
and  its  officers,  the  Commonwealth’s  attorney,  sheriff 
and  jailer,  to  say  whether  you  may  see  and  wait  on 
the  prisoner.  But,  whether  you  are  thus  permitted 
or  not  (and  you  will  be,  if  my  advice  can  prevail), 
you  may' rest  assured  that  he  will  be  humanely,  law- 
fully, and  mercifully  dealt  by  in  prison  and  on  trial. 

Respectfully,  Henry  A.  Wise. 

MRS.  CHILD  TO  GOVERNOR  WISE. 

In  your  civil  but  very  diplomatic  reply  to  my  let- 
ter, you  inform  me  that  I have  a constitutional  right 
to  visit  Virginia,  for  peaceful  purposes,  in  common 
with  every  citizen  of  the  United  States.  I was  per- 
fectly well  aware  that  such  was  the  theory  of  consti- 
tutional obligation  in  the  slave  States ; but  I was 
also  aware  of  what  you  omit  to  mention,  viz. : that 
the  Constitution  has,  in  reality,  been  completely  and 
systematically  nullified,  whenever  it  suited  the  con- 
venience or  the  policy  of  the  slave  power.  Your  con- 
stitutional obligation,  for  which  you  profess  so  much 
respect,  has  never  proved  any  protection  to  citizens 
of  the  free  States  who  happened  to  have  a black, 
brown,  or  yellow  complexion  ; nor  to  any  white  citi- 
zen whom  you  even  suspected  of  entertaining  opin- 
ions opposite  to  your  own,  on  a question  of  vast  im- 
portance to  the  temporal  welfare  and  moral  example 
of  our  common  country.  This  total  disregard  of 
constitutional  obligation  has  been  manifested  not 
merely  by  the  lynch  law  of  mobs  in  the  slave 
States,  but  by  the  deliberate  action  of  magistrates 
and  legislators.  What  regard  was  paid  to  CQnstitu- 


108 


LETTERS. 


tional  obligation  in  South  Carolina,  when  Massachu- 
setts sent  the  Hon.  Mr.  Hoar  there  as  an  envoy,  on  a 
purely  legal  errand  ? Mr.  Hedrick,  Professor  of  Po- 
litical Economy  in  the  University  of  North  Carolina, 
had  a constitutional  right  to  reside  in  that  State. 
What  regard  was  paid  to  that  right,  when  he  was 
driven  from  his  home  merely  for  declaring  that  he 
considered  slavery  an  impolitic  system,  injurious  to 
the  prosperity  of  States  ? What  respect  for  constitu- 
tional rights  was  manifested  by  Alabama,  when  a 
bookseller  in  Mobile  was  compelled  to  flee  for  his  life, 
because  he  had,  at  the  special  request  of  some  of  the 
citizens,  imported  a few  copies  of  a novel  that  every- 
body was  curious  to  read  ? Your  own  citizen,  Mr. 
Underwood,  had  a constitutional  right  to  live  in  Vir- 
ginia and  vote  for  whomsoever  he  pleased.  What 
regard  was  paid  to  his  rights,  when  he  was  driven 
from  your  State  for  declaring  himself  in  favor  of  the 
election  of  Fremont?  With  these  and  a multitude 
of  other  examples  before  your  eyes,  it  would  seem  as 
if  the  less  that  was  said  about  respect  for  constitu- 
tional obligations  at  the  South,  the  better.  Slavery 
is,  in  fact,  an  infringement  of  all  law,  and  adheres  to 
no  law,  save  for  its  own  purposes  of  oppression. 

You  accuse  Captain  John  Brown  of  “ whetting 
knives  of  butchery  for  the  mothers,  sisters,  daughters, 
and  babes  ” of  Virginia ; and  you  inform  me  of  the 
well-known  fact,  that  he  is  “ arraigned  for  the  crimes 
of  murder,  robbery,  and  treason.”  I will  not  here  stop 
to  explain  why  I believe  that  old  hero  to  be  no  crim- 
inal, but  a martyr  to  righteous  principles  which  he 
sought  to  advance  by  methods  sanctioned  by  his  own 
religious  views,  though  not  by  mine.  Allowing  that 
Captain  Brown  did  attempt  a scheme  in  which  mur- 


LETTERS. 


109 


der,  robbery,  and  treason  were,  to  his  own  conscious- 
ness, involved,  I do  not  see  how  Governor  Wise  can 
consistently  arraign  him  for  crimes  he  has  himself 
commended.  You  have  threatened  to  trample  on  the 
Constitution,  and  break  the  Union,  if  a majorit}'-  of 
the  legal  voters  in  these  confederated  States  dared  to 
elect  a President  unfavorable  to  the  extension  of  slav- 
ery. Is  not  such  a declaration  proof  of  premeditated 
treason?  In  the  spring  of  1842  you  made  a speech 
in  Congress,  from  which  I copy  the  following ; — 

“ Once  set  before  the  people  of  the  great  valley  the  con- 
quest of  the  rich  Mexican  provinces,  and  you  might  as  well 
attempt  to  stop  the  wind.  This  government  might  send  its 
troops,  but  they  would  run  over  them  like  a herd  of  buffalo. 
Let  the  work  once  begin,  and  I do  not  know  that  this  House 
would  hold  me  very  long.  Give  me  five  millions  of  dollars, 
and  I would  undertake  to  do  it  myself.  Although  I do  not 
know  how  to  Set  a single  squadron  in  the  field,  I could  find 
men  to  do  it.  Slavery  should  pour  itself  abroad,  without 
restraint,  and  -find  no  limit  but  the  southern  ocean.  The 
Camanches  should  no  longer  hold  the  richest  mines  of  Mex- 
ico. Every  golden  image  which  had  received  the  profana- 
tion of  a false  worship  should  soon  be  melted  down  into 
good  American  eagles.  I would  cause  as  much  gold  to 
cross  the  Rio  del  Norte  as  the  mules  of  Mexico  could  carry  ; 
aye,  and  I would  make  better  use  of  it,  too,  than  any  lazy, 
bigoted  priesthood  under  heaven.” 

When  you  thus  boasted  that  you  and  your  “ booted 
loafers  ” would  overrun  the  troops  of  the  United 
States  “like  a herd  of  buffalo,”  if  the  government 
sent  them  to  arrest  your  invasion  of  a neighboring 
nation,  at  peace  with  the  United  States,  did  you  not 
pledge  yourself  to  commit  treason  ? Was  it  not  by 
robbery,  even  of  churches,  that  you  proposed  to  load 


110 


LETTERS. 


the  mules  of  Mexico  with  gold  for  the  United  States  ? 
Was  it  not  by  the  murder  of  unoffending  Mexicans 
that  you  expected  to  advance  those  schemes  of  avarice 
and  ambition  ? What  humanity  had  jmu  for  Mexican 
“ mothers  and  babes,”  wlmin  you  proposed  to  make 
childless  and  fatherless  ? And  for  what  purpose  was 
this  wholesale  massacre  to  take  place  ? Not  to  right 
the  wrongs  of  any  oppressed  class ; not  to  sustain  any 
great  principles  of  justice,  or  of  freedom  ; but  merely 
to  enable  “ slavery  to  pour  itself  forth  without  re- 
straint.” 

Even  if  Captain  Brown  were  as  bad  as  you  paint 
him,  I should  suppose  he  must  naturally  remind  you 
of  the  words  of  Macbeth  : — 

“We  but  teach 

Bloody  instructions,  which,  being  taught,  return 
To  plague  the  inventor  : this  even-handed  justice 
Commends  the  ingredients  of  our  poisoned  chalice 
To  our  own  lips.” 

If  Captain  Brown  intended,  as  you  say,  to  commit 
treason,  robbery,  and  murder,  I think  I have  shown 
that  he  could  find  ample  authority  for  such  proceedings 
in  the  public  declarations  of  Governor  Wise.  And 
if,  as  he  himself  declares,  he  merely  intended  to  free 
the  oppressed,  where  could  he  read  a more  forcible 
lesson  than  is  furnished  by  the  state  seal  of  Virginia? 
I looked  at  it  thoughtfully  before  I opened  your  let- 
ter ; and  though  it  had  always  appeared  to  me  very 
suggestive,  it  never  seemed  to  me  so  much  so  as  it 
now  did  in  connection  with  Captain  John  Brown.  A 
liberty-loving  hero  stands  with  his  foot  upon  a pros- 
trate despot ; under  his  strong  arm,  manacles  and 
chains  lie  broken ; and  the  motto  is,  “ Sic  Semper 
Tyrannic;  ” “ Thus  be  it  ever  done  to  tyrants.”  And 


LETTERS. 


in 


this  is  the  blazon  of  a State  whose  most  profitable 
business  is  the  internal  slave-trade  ! — in  whose  high- 
ways coffles  of  human  chattels,  chained  and  manacled, 
are  frequently  seen  ! And  the  seal  and  the  coffles  are 
both  looked  upon  by  other  chattels,  constantly  exposed 
to  the  same  fate ! What  if  some  Vezey,  or  Nat  Tur- 
ner, should  be  growing  up  among  those  apparently 
quiet  spectators  ? It  is  in  no  spirit  of  taunt  or  of 
exultation  that  I ask  this  question.  I never  think  of 
it  but  with  anxiety,  sadness,  and  sympathy.  I know 
that  a slave-holding  community  necessarily  lives  in 
the  midst  of  gunpowder ; and,  in  this  age,  sparks  of 
free  thought  are  flying  in  every  direction.  You  can- 
not quench  the  fires  of  free  thought  and  human  sym- 
pathy by  any  process  of  cunning  or  force  ; but  there 
is  a method  by  which  you  can  effectually  wet  the  gun- 
powder. England  has  already  tried  it,  with  safety 
and  success.  Would  that  you  could  be  persuaded  to 
set  aside  the  prejudices  of  education,  and  candidly  ex- 
amine the  actual  working  of  that  experiment ! Vir- 
ginia is  so  richly  endowed  by  nature  that  free  insti- 
tutions alone  are  wanting  to  render  her  the  most 
prosperous  and  powerful  of  the  States. 

In  your  letter  you  suggest  that  such  a scheme  as 
Captain  Brown’s  is  the  natural  result  of  the  opinions 
with  which  I sympathize.  Even  if  I thought  this  to 
be  a correct  statement,  though  I should  deeply  regret 
it,  I could  not  draw  the  conclusion  that  humanity 
ought  to  be  stifled,  and  truth  struck  dumb,  for  fear 
that  long-successful  despotism  might  be  endangered 
by  their  utterance.  But  the  fact  is,  you  mistake  the 
source  of  that  strange  outbreak.  No  abolition  argu- 
ments or  denunciations,  however  earnestly,  loudly,  or 
harshly  proclaimed,  would  have  produced  that  result. 


112 


LETTERS. 


It  was  the  legitimate  consequence  of  the  continual 
and  constantly-increasing  aggressions  of  the  slave 
power.  The  slave  States,  in  their  desperate  efforts 
to  sustain  a bad  and  dangerous  institution,  have  en- 
croached more  and  more  upon  the  liberties  of  the 
free  States.  Our  inherent  love  of  law  and  order, 
and  our  superstitious  attachment  to  the  Union,  you 
have  mistaken  for  cowardice  ; and  rarely  have  you 
let  slip  any  opportunity  to  add  insult  to  aggression. 

The  manifested  opposition  to  slavery  began  with 
the  lectures  and  pamphlets  of  a few  disinterested 
men  and  women,  who  based  their  movements  upon 
purely  moral  and  religious  grounds ; but  their  expos- 
tulations were  met  with  a storm  of  rage,  with  tar 
and  feathers,  brickbats,  demolished  houses,  and  other 
applications  of  lynch  law.  When  the  dust  of  the 
conflict  began  to  subside  a little,  their  numbers  were 
found  to  be  greatly  increased  by  the  efforts  to  exter- 
minate them.  They  had  become  an  influence  in  the 
State  too  important  to  be  overlooked  by  shrewd  cal- 
culators. Political  economists  began  to  look  at  the 
subject  from  a lower  point  of  view.  They  used  their 
abilities  to  demonstrate  that  slavery  was  a wasteful 
system,  and  that  the  free  States  were  taxed  to  an 
enormous  extent  to  sustain  an  institution  which,  at 
heart,  two  thirds  of  them  abhorred.  The  forty  mill- 
ions, or  more,  of  dollars  expended  in  hunting  fugitive 
slaves  in  Florida,  under  the  name  of  the  Seminole 
War,  were  adduced,  as  one  item  of  proof,  to  which 
many  more  were  added.  At  last  politicians  were 
compelled  to  take  some  action  on  the  subject.  It 
soon  became  known  to  all  the  people  that  the  slave 
States  had  always  managed  to  hold  in  their  hands 
the  political  power  of  the  Union,  and  that  while  tliey 


LETTERS. 


113 


constituted  only  one  third  of  the  white  population  of 
these  States,  they  held  more  than  two  thirds  of  all 
the  lucrative,  and  once  honorable,  offices ; an  indig- 
nity to  which  none  but  a subjugated  people  had  ever 
before  submitted.  The  knowledge  also  became  gen- 
erally diffused  that,  while  the  Southern  States  owned 
their  Democrac}-  at  home,  and  voted  for  them,  they 
also  systematically  bribed  the  nominally  Democratic 
party  at  the  North  with  the  offices  adroitly  kept  at 
their  disposal. 

Through  these  and  other  instrumentalities,  the 
sentiments  of  the  original  Garrisonian  abolitionists 
became  very  widely  extended,  in  forms  more  or  less 
diluted.  But  by  far  the  most  efficient  co-laborers  we 
have  ever  had  have  been  the  slave  States  themselves. 
By  denying  us  the  sacred  right  of  petition,  they 
roused  the  free  spirit  of  the  North  as  it  never  could 
have  been  roused  by  the. load  trumpet  of  Garrison  or 
the  soul-animating  bugle  of  Phillips.  They  bought 
the  great  slave,  Daniel,  and,  according  to  their  estab- 
lished usage,  paid  him  no  wages  for  his  labor.  By 
his  cooperation  they  forced  the  Fugitive  Slave  Law 
upon  us  in  violation  of  all  our  humane  instincts  and 
all  our  principles  of  justice.  And  what  did  they  pro- 
cure for  the  abolitionists  by  that  despotic  process  ? 
A deeper  and  wider  detestation  of  slavery  through- 
out the  free  States,  and  the  publication  of  “ Uncle 
Tom’s  Cabin,”  an  eloquent  outburst  of  moral  indig- 
nation, whose  echoes  wakened  the  world  to  look  upon 
their  shame. 

By  filibustering  and  fraud  they  dismembered  Mex- 
ico, and,  having  thus  obtained  the  soil  of  Texas, 
they  tried  to  introduce  it  as  a slave  State  into  the 
Union.  Failing  to  effect  their  purpose  by  constitu- 
8 


114 


LETTERS. 


tional  means,  they  accomplished  it  by  a most  open 
and  palpable  violation  of  the  Constitution,  and  by 
obtaining  the  votes  of  senators  on  false  pretensesd 

Soon  afterward  a Southern  slave  administration 
ceded  to  the  powerful  monarchy  of  Great  Britain 
several  hundred  thousands  of  square  miles  that  must 
have  been  made  into  free  States,  to  which  that  same 
administration  had  declared  that  the  United  States 
had  “an  unquestionable  right ; ” and  then  they  turned 
upon  the  weak  republic  of  Mexico,  and,  in  order  to 
make  more  slave  States,  wrested  from  her  twice  as 
many  hundred  thousands  of  square  miles,  to  which 
we  had  not  a shadow  of  right. 

Notwithstanding  all  these  extra  efforts,  they  saw 
symptoms  that  the  political  power  so  long  held  with 
a firm  grasp  was  in  danger  of  slipping  from  their 
hands,  by  reason  of  the  extension  of  abolition  senti- 
ments, and  the  greater  prosperity  of  free  States. 
Emboldened  by  continual  success  in  aggression,  they 
made  use  of  the  pretence  of  “ squatter  sovereignty” 
to  break  the  league  into  which  they  had  formerly 
cajoled  the  servile  representatives  of  our  blinded  peo- 
ple, by  which  all  the  territory  of  the  United  States 
south  of  36°  30'  was  guarantied  to  slavery,  and  all 
north  of  it  to  freedom.  Thus  Kansas  became  the 
battle-ground  of  the  antagonistic  elements  in  our 
government.  Ruffians  hired  by  the  slave  power 
were  sent  thither  temporarily  to  do  the  voting  and 
drive  from  the  polls  the  legal  voters,  who  were  often 
murdered  in  the  process.  Names  copied  from  the 

1 The  following  senators,  Mr.  Niles  of  Connecticut,  Mr.  Dix  of 
New  York,  and  Mr.  Tappan  of  Ohio,  published  statements  that  their 
votes  had  been  obtained  by  false  representations ; and  they  declared 
that  the  case  was  the  same  with  Mr.  Heywood  of  North  Carolina. 


LETTERS. 


115 


directories  of  cities  in  other  States  were  returned  by 
thousands  as  legal  voters  in  Kansas,  in  order  to  estab- 
lish a Constitution  abhorred  by  the  people.  This 
was  their  exemplification  of  squatter  sovereignty.  A 
Massachusetts  senator,  distinguished  for  candor,  cour- 
tesy, and  stainless  integrity,  was  half  murdered  by 
slave-holders  merely  for  having  the  manliness  to  state 
these  facts  to  the  assembled  Congress  of  the  nation. 
Peaceful  emigrants  from  the  North,  who  went  to 
Kansas  for  no  other  purpose  than  to  till  the  soil, 
erect  mills,  and  establish  manufactories,  schools,  and 
churches,  were  robbed,  outraged,  and  murdered.  For 
many  months  a war  more  ferocious  than  the  warfare 
of  wild  Indians  was  carried  on  against  a people  al- 
most unresisting,  because  they  relied  upon  the  central 
government  for  aid.  And  all  this  while  the  power 
of  the  United  States,  wielded  by  the  slave  oligarchy, 
was  on  the  side  of  the  aggressors.  This  was  the  state 
of  things  when  the  hero  of  Ossawatomie  and  his  brave 
sons  went  to  the  rescue.  It  was  he  who  first  turned 
the  tide  of  border-ruffian  triumph,  by  showing  them 
that  blows  were  to  be  taken  as  well  as  given. 

You  may  believe  it  or  not.  Governor  Wise,  but  it 
is  certainly  the  truth  that,  because  slave-holders  so 
recklessly  sowed  the  wind  in  Kansas,  they  reaped  a 
whirlwind  at  Harper’s  Ferry. 

The  people  of  the  North  had  a very  strong  attach- 
ment to  the  Union  ; but  by  your  desperate  measures 
you  have  weakened  it  beyond  all  power  of  restora- 
tion. They  are  not  your  enemies,  as  you  suppose, 
but  they  cannot  consent  to  be  your  tools  for  any  igno- 
ble task  you  may  choose  to  propose.  You  must  not 
judge  of  us  by  the  crawling  sinuosities  of  an  Everett; 
or  by  our  magnificent  hound,  whom  you  trained  to 


116 


LETTERS. 


hunt  your  poor  cripples,^  and  then  sent  him  sneaking 
into  a corner  to  die  — not  with  shame  for  the  base 
purposes  to  which  his  strengtli  had  been  applied,  but 
with  vexation  because  you  withheld  from  him  the 
promised  bone.  Not  by  such  as  these  must  you  judge 
the  free,  enlightened  yeomanry  of  New  England.  A 
majority  of  them  would  rejoice  to  have  the  slave 
States  fulfil  their  oft-repeated  threat  of  withdrawal 
from  the  Union.  It  has  ceased  to  be  a bugbear,  for 
we  begin  to  despair  of  being  able,  by  any  other  proc- 
ess, to  give  the  world  the  example  of  a real  republic. 
The  moral  sense  of  these  States  is  outraged  by  being 
accomplices  in  sustaining  an  institution  vicious  in  all 
its  aspects  ; and  it  is  now  generally  understood  that 
we  purchase  our  disgrace  at  great  pecuniary  expense. 
If  you  would  only  make  the  offer  of  a separation  in 
serious  earnest,  you  would  hear  the  hearty  response 
of  millions,  “ Go,  gentlemen,  and 

‘ Stand  not  upon  the  order  of  your  going, 

But  go  at  once  ! ’ ” 

Yours,  with  all  due  respect, 

L.  Maria  Child. 

EXPLANATORY  LETTER. 

To  THE  Editor  of  the  New  York  Tribune  : 

Sir, — I was  much  surprised  to  see  my  correspond- 
ence with  Governor  Wise  published  in  your  columns. 
As  I have  never  given  any  person  a copy,  I presume 
you  must  have  obtained  it  from  Virginia.  My  pro- 
posal to  go  and  nurse  that  brave  and  generous  old 
man,  who  so  willingly  gives  his  life  a sacrifice  for 
God’s  oppressed  poor,  originated  in  a very  simple 
1 Alluding  to  Daniel  Webster  and  the  Fugitive  Slave  Law. 


LETTERS. 


117 


and  unmeritorious  impulse  of  kindness.  I heard  his 
friends  inquiring,  “ Has  he  no  wife,  or  sister,  that  can 
go  to  nurse  him?  We  are  tr^dng  to  ascertain,  for  he 
needs  some  one.”  My  niece  said  she  would  go  at 
once,  if  her  health  were  strong  enough  to  be  trusted. 
I replied  that  my  age  and  state  of  health  rendered 
me  a more  suitable  person  to  go,  and  that  I would 
go  most  gladly.  I accordingly  wrote  to  Captain 
Brown,  and  inclosed  the  letter  to  Governor  Wise. 
My  intention  was  to  slip  away  quietly,  without  hav- 
ing the  affair  made  public.  I packed  my  trunk  and 
collected  a quantity  of  old  linen  for  lint,  and  awaited 
tidings  from  Virginia.  When  Governor  Wise  an- 
swered, he  suggested  the  “ imprudence  of  trying  any 
experiment  upon  the  peace  of  a society  already 
greatly  excited,”  etc.  My  husband  and  I took  coun- 
sel together,  and  we  both  concluded  that,  as  the  no- 
ble old  veteran  was  said  to  be  fast  recovering  from  his 
wounds,  and  as  my  presence  might  create  a popular 
excitement  unfavorable  to  such  chance  as  the  prisoner 
had  for  a fair  trial,  I had  better  wait  until  I received 
a reply  from  Captain  Brown  himself.  Fearing  to  do 
him  more  harm  than  good  by  following  my  impulse, 
I waited  for  his  own  sanction.  Meanwhile,  his  wife, 
said  to  be  a brave-hearted  Roman  matron,  worthy  of 
such  a mate,  has  gone  to  him,  and  I have  received 
the  following  reply. 

Respectfully  yours, 

L.  Maeia  Child. 

Boston,  November  10,  1859. 


118 


LETTERS. 


MRS.  CHILD  TO  JOHN  BROWN. 

Wayland  [Mass.],  October  26,  1859, 

Dear  Captain  Broavn  : Though  personally  un- 
known to  3^011,  3^011  will  recognize  in  my  name  an 
earnest  friend  of  Kansas,  when  circumstances  made 
that  Territoiy  the  battle-ground  between  the  antag- 
onistic principles  of  slavery  and  freedom,  which  pol- 
iticians so  vainl3"  strive  to  reconcile  in  the  government 
of  the  United  States. 

Believing  in  peace  principles,  I cannot  sympathize 
with  the  method  you  chose  to  advance  the  cause  of 
freedom.  But  I honor  your  generous  intentions, — I 
admire  your  courage,  moral  and  physical.  I reverence 
you  for  the  humanity  which  tempered  your  zeal.  I 
sympathize  with  you  in  your  cruel  bereavement,  your 
sufferings,  and  your  wrongs.  In  brief,  I love  you  and 
bless  you. 

Thousands  of  hearts  are  throbbing  with  sympathy 
as  warm  as  mine.  I think  of  you  night  and  day, 
bleeding  in  prison,  surrounded  by  hostile  faces,  sus- 
tained only  by  trust  in  God  and  your  own  strong 
heart.  I long  to  nurse  you  — to  speak  to  you  sisterly 
words  of  sympathy  and  consolation.  I have  asked 
permission  of  Governor  Wise  to  do  so.  If  the  re- 
quest is  not  granted,  I cherish  the  hope  that  these 
few  words  may  at  least  reach  your  hands,  and  afford 
3mu  some  little  solace.  May  you  be  strengthened  by 
the  conviction  that  no  honest  man  ever  sheds  blood 
for  freedom  in  vain,  however  much  he  may  be  mis- 
taken in  his  efforts.  May  God  sustain  you,  and 
carry  you  through  whatsoever  may  be  in  store  for 
you ! Yours,  with  heartfelt  respect,  sympathy  and 
affection,  L.  Maria  Child. 


LETTERS. 


119 


REPLY  OF  JOHN  BROWN. 

Mrs.  L.  Maria  Child  : 

My  Dear  Friend,  — Sucli  you  prove  to  be, 
though  a stranger,  — your  most  kind  letter  has 
reached  me,  with  the  kind  offer  to  come  here  and 
take  care  of  me.  Allow  me  to  express  my  gratitude 
for  your  great  sympathy,  and  at  the  same  time  to 
propose  to  you  a different  course,  together  with  my 
reasons  for  wishing  it.  I should  certainly  be  greatly 
pleased  to  become  personally  acquainted  with  one  so 
gifted  and  so  kind,  but  I cannot  avoid  seeing  some 
objections  to  it,  under  present  circumstances.  First, 
I am  in  charge  of  a most  humane  gentleman,  who, 
with  his  family,  has  rendered  me  every  possible  at- 
tention I have  desired,  or  that  could  be  of  the  least 
advantage  ; and  I am  so  recovered  of  my  wounds  as 
no  longer*  to  require  nursing.  Then,  again,  it  would 
subject  you  to  great  personal  inconvenience  and 
heavy  expense,  without  doing  me  any  good.  Allow 
me  to  name  to  you  another  channel  through  which 
you  may  reach  me  with  your  sympathies  much  more 
effectually.  I have  at  home  a wife  and  three  young 
daughters,  the  youngest  but  little  over  five  years  old, 
the  oldest  nearly  sixteen.  I have  also  two  daughters- 
in-law,  whose  husbands  have  both  fallen  near  me 
here.  There  is  also  another  widow,  Mrs.  Thompson, 
whose  husband  fell  here.  Whether  she  is  a mother 
or  not,  I cannot  say.  All  these,  my  wife  included, 
live  at  North  Elba,  Essex  county.  New  York.  I 
have  a middle-aged  son,  who  has  been,  in  some  de- 
gree, a cripple  from  his  childhood,  who  would  have 
as  much  as  he  could  well  do  to  earn  a living.  He 
was  a most  dreadful  sufferer  in  Kansas,  and  lost  all 


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LETTERS. 


lie  had  laid  up.  He  has  not  enough  to  clothe  himself 
for  the  winter  comfortably.  I have  no  living  son,  or 
son-in-law,  who  did  not  suffer  terribly  in  Kansas. 

Now,  dear  friend,  would  you  not  as  soon  contribute 
fifty  cents  now,  and  a like  sum  y earl 3^,  for  the  relief 
of  those  very  poor  and  deeply  afflicted  persons,  to 
enable  them  to  supply  themselves  and  their  children 
with  bread  and  very  plain  clothing,  and  to  enable  the 
children  to  receive  a common  English  education  ? 
Will  you  also  devote  your  own  energies  to  induce 
others  to  join  }^ou  in  giving  a like  amount,  or  any 
other  amount,  to  constitute  a little  fund  for  the  pur- 
pose named  ? 

I cannot  see  how  your  coming  here  can  do  me  the 
least  good ; and  I am  quite  certain  you  can  do  im- 
mense good  where  you  are.  I am  quite  cheerful 
under  all  my  afflicting  circumstances  and  prospects  ; 
having,  as  I humbly  trust,  ‘‘  the  peace  of  God  which 
passeth  all  understanding  ” to  rule  in  my  heart. 
You  may  make  such  use  of  this  as  you  see  fit.  God 
Almighty  bless  and  reward  you  a thousand  fold  ! 

Yours  in  sincerity  and  truth, 

John  Bkown. 

LETTER  OF  MRS.  MASON. 

Alto,  King  George’s  Co.,  Va.,  November  11,  1859. 

Do  you  read  }mur  Bible,  Mrs.  Child  ? If  you  do, 
read  there,  “ Woe  uiito  you,  hypocrites,”  and  take  to 
yourself  with  twofold  damnation  that  terrible  sen- 
tence ; for,  rest  assured,  in  the  day  of  judgment  it 
shall  be  more  tolerable  for  those  thus  scathed  by  the 
awful  denunciation  of  the  Son  of  God,  than  for  you. 
You  would  soothe  with  sisterly  and  motherly  care 
the  hoary-headed  murderer  of  Harper’s  Ferry  ! A 


LETTERS. 


121 


man  whose  aim  and  intention  was  to  incite  the  hor- 
rors of  a servile  war  — to  condemn  women  of  your 
own  race,  ere  death  closed  their  eyes  on  their  suffer- 
ings from  violence  and  outrage,  to  see  their  husbands 
and  fathers  murdered,  their  children  butchered,  the 
ground  strewed  with  the  brains  of  their  babes.  The 
antecedents  of  Brown’s  band  proved  them  to  have 
been  the  offscourings  of  the  earth ; and  what  would 
have  been  our  fate  had  they  found  as  many  sympa- 
thizers in  Virginia  as  they  seem  to  have  in  Massa- 
chusetts ? 

Now,  compare  yourself  with  those  your  “ sym- 
pathy ” would  devote  to  such  ruthless  ruin,  and  say, 
on  that  “ word  of  honor,  which  never  has  been 
broken,”  would  you  stand  by  the  bedside  of  an  old 
negro,  dying  of  a hopeless  disease,  to  alleviate  his 
suffering  as  far  as  human  aid  could  ? Have  you  ever 
watched  the  last,  lingering  illness  of  a consumptive, 
to  soothe,  as  far  as  in  you  laj^,  the  inevitable  fate? 
Do  you  soften  the  pangs  of  maternity  in  those  around 
you  by  all  the  care  and  comfort  you  can  give  ? Do 
you  grieve  with  those  near  you,  even  though  their 
sorrows  resulted  from  their  own  misconduct  ? Did 
you  ever  sit  up  until  the  “ wee  hours  ” to  complete  a 
dress  for  a motherless  child,  that  she  might  appear 
on  Christmas  Day  in  a new  one,  along  with  her  more 
fortunate  companions  ? We  do  these  and  more  for 
our  servants,  and  why  ? Because  we  endeavor  to  do 
our  duty  in  that  state  of  life  it  has  pleased  God  to 
place  us.  In  his  revealed  word  we  read  our  duties  to 
them — theirs  to  us  are  there  also — “ Not  only  to  the 
good  and  gentle,  but  also  to  the  froward.”  (1  Peter  ii. 
18.)  Go  thou  and  do  likewise,  and  keep  away  from 
Charlestown.  If  the  stories  read  in  the  public  prints 


122 


LETTERS. 


be  true,  of  the  sufferings  of  the  poor  of  the  North, 
you  need  not  go  far  for  objects  of  charity.  “ Thou 
hypocrite ! take  first  the  beam  out  of  thine  own  eye, 
then  shaft  thou  see  clearly  to  pull  the  mote  out  of 
thy  neighbor’s.”  But  if,  indeed,  jmu  do  lack  objects 
of  sympathy  near  you,  *go  to  Jefferson  County,  to  the 
family  of  George  Turner,  a noble,  true-hearted  man, 
whose  devotion  to  his  friend  (Colonel  Washington) 
causing  him  to  risk  his  life,  was  shot  down  like  a 
dog.  Or  to  that  of  old  Beckham,  whose  grief  at  the 
murder  of  his  negro  subordinate  made  him  needlessly 
expose  himself  to  the  aim  of  the  assassin  Brown. 
And  when  you  can  equal  in  deeds  of  love  and  charity 
to  those  around  you,  what  is  shown  by  nine  tenths  of 
the  Virginia  plantations,  then  by  your  “ sympathy  ” 
whet  the  knives  for  our  throats,  and  kindle  the  torch 
that  fires  our  homes.  You  reverence  Brown  for  his 
clemency  to  his  prisoners  I Prisoners ! and  how  taken  ? 
Unsuspecting  workmen,  going  to  their  daily  duties; 
unarmed  gentlemen,  taken  from  their  beds  at  the 
dead  hour  of  the  night,  by  six  men  doubly  and  trebly 
armed.  Suppose  he  had  hurt  a hair  of  their  heads, 
do  you  suppose  one  of  the  band  of  desperadoes  would 
have  left  the  engine-house  alive?  And  did  he  not 
know  that  his  treatment  of  them  was  his  only  hope 
of  life  then,  or  of  clemenc}^  afterward  ? Of  course  he 
did.  The  United  States  troops  could  not  have  pre- 
vented him  from  being  torn  limb  from  limb. 

I will  add,  in  conclusion,  no  Southerner  ought,  after 
your  letter  to  Governor  Wise  and  to  Brown,  to  read 
a line  of  your  composition,  or  to  touch  a magazine 
which  bears  your  name  in  its  lists  of  contributors  ; 
and  in  this  we  hope  for  the  “sympathy  ” at  least  of 
those  at  the  North  who  deserve  the  name  of  woman. 

M.  J.  C.  Mason. 


LETTERS. 


123 


REPLY  OF  MRS.  CHILD. 

Watland  [Mass.],  December  17,  1859. 

Prolonged  absence  from  home  has  prevented  my 
answering  your  letter  so  soon  as  I intended.  I have 
no  disposition  to  retort  upon  you  the  “ twofold  dam- 
nation ” to  which  you  consign  me.  On  the  contrary, 
I sincerely  wish  you  well,  both  in  this  world  and  the 
next.  If  the  anathema  proved  a safety  valve  to  your 
own  boiling  spirit,  it  did  some  good  to  you,  while  it 
fell  harmless  upon  me.  Fortunately  for  all  of  us,  the 
Heavenly  Father  rules  his  universe  by  laws,  which 
the  passions  or  the  prejudices  of  mortals  have  no 
power  to  change. 

As  for  John  Browm,  his  reputation  may  be  safely 
trusted  to  the  impartial  pen  of  history ; and  his  mo- 
tives will  be  righteously  judged  by  him  who  knoweth 
the  secrets  of  all  hearts.  Men,  however  great  they 
may  be,  are  of  small  consequence  in  comparison  with 
principles ; and  the  principle  for  which  John  Brown 
died  is  the  question  at  issue  between  us. 

You  refer  me  to  the  Bible,  from  which  you  quote 
the  favorite  text  of  slave-holders : — 

“ Servants,  be  subject  to  your  masters  with  all  fear ; not 
only  to  the  good  and  gentle,  but  also  to  the  froward.”  — 1 
Peter  ii.  18. 

Abolitionists  also  have  favorite  texts,  to  some  of 
which  I would  call  your  attention  : — 

“ Remember  them  that  are  in  bonds,  as  bound  with  them. 
— Heb.  xiii.  3. 

“ Hide  the  outcasts ; bewray  not  him  that  wandereth. 
Let  mine  outcasts  dwell  with  thee.  Be  thou  a covert  to 
them  from  the  face  of  the  spoiler.”  — Isa.  xvi.  3,  4. 

“ Thou  shalt  not  deliver  unto  his  master  the  servant  which 


124 


LETTERS. 


is  escaped  from  his  master  unto  thee : he  shall  dwell  with 
thee  . . . where  it  liketh  him  best : thou  shalt  not  oppress 
him.”  — Deut.  xxiii.  15,  16. 

Open  thy  mouth  for  the  dumb  in  the  cause  of  all  such 
as  are  appointed  to  destruction.  Open  thy  mouth,  judge 
righteously,  and  plead  the  cause  of  the  poor  and  needy.”  — 
Prov.  xxxi.  8,  9. 

“ Cry  aloud,  spare  not,  lift  up  thy  voice  like  a trumpet, 
and  show  my  people  their  transgression,  and  the  house  of 
Jacob  their  sins.”  — Isa.  Iviii.  1. 

I would  especially  commend  to  slave-holders  the 
following  portions  of  that  volume  wherein  you  say 
God  has  revealed  the  duty  of  masters : — 

“ Masters,  give  unto  your  servants  that  which  is  just  and 
equal ; knowing  that  ye  also  have  a Master  in  heaven.”  — 
Col.  iv.  1. 

“ Neither  be  ye  called  masters  : for  one  is  your  Master, 
even  Christ ; and  all  ye  are  brethren.”  — Matt,  xxiii.  10. 

“ Whatsoever  ye  would  that  men  should  do  to  you,  do  ye 
even  so  to  them.”  — Matt.  vii.  12. 

“ Is  not  this  the  fast  that  I have  chosen  ? to  loose  the 
bands  of  wickedness,  to  undo  the  heavy  burdens,  and  to  let 
the  oppressed  go  free,  and  that  ye  break  every  yoke?”  — 
Isa.  Iviii.  6. 

They  “ have  given  a boy  for  an  harlot,  and  sold  a girl  for 
wine,  that  they  might  drink.”  — Joel  iii.  3. 

“ He  that  oppresseth  the  poor  reproacheth  his  Maker.” 
— Prov.  xiv.  31. 

“ Bob  not  the  poor,  because  he  is  poor : neither  oppress 
the  afflicted.  For  the  Lord  will  plead  their  cause,  and  spoil 
the  soul  of  those  who  spoiled  them.”  — Prov.  xxii.  22,  23. 

“ Woe  unto  him  . . . that  useth  his  neighbor’s  service 
without  wages,  and  giveth  him  not  for  his  work.”  — Jer. 
xxii.  13. 

“ Let  him  that  stole,  steal  no  more : but  rather  let  him 
labor,  working  with  his  hands.”  — Eph.  iv.  28. 


LETTERS. 


125 


Woe  unto  them  that  decree  unrighteous  decrees,  and 
that  write  grievousness  which  they  have  prescribed  ; to 
turn  aside  the  needy  from  judgment,  and  to  take  away  the 
right  from  the  poor  of  my  people,  that  widows  may  be  their 
prey,  and  that  they  may  rob  the  fatherless ! ” — Isa.  x.  1,  2. 

“ If  I did  despise  the  cause  of  my  man-servant  or  of  my 
maid-servant,  when  they  contend  with  me  ; what  then  shall 
I do  when  God  riseth  up  ? and  when  he  visiteth,  what  shall 
I answer  him  ? ” — Job  xxxi.  13,  14. 

“ Thou  hast  sent  widows  away  empty,  and  the  arms  of 
the  fatherless  have  been  broken.  Therefore  snares  are 
round  about  thee,  and  sudden  fear  troubleth  thee ; or  dark- 
ness, that  thou  canst  not  see.”  — Job  xxii.  9-11. 

“ Behold,  the  hire  of  the  laborers  who  have  reaped  down 
your  fields,  which  is  of  you  kept  back  by  fraud,  crieth ; and 
the  cries  of  them  which  have  reaped  are  entered  into  the 
ears  of  the  Lord  of  Sabaoth.  Ye  have  lived  in  pleasure  on 
the  earth,  and  been  wanton ; ye  have  nourished  your  hearts, 
as  in  a day  of  slaughter.  Ye  have  condemned  and  killed 
the  just.”  — James  v.  4. 

If  the  appropriateness  of  these  texts  is  not  appar- 
ent, I will  try  to  make  it  so,  by  evidence  drawn 
entirely  from  Southern  sources.  The  abolitionists 
are  not  such  an  ignorant  set  of  fanatics  as  you  sup- 
pose. They  hnow  whereof  they  affirm.  They  are 
familiar  with  the  laws  of  the  slave  States,  which  are 
alone  sufficient  to  inspire  abhorrence  in  any  humane 
heart  or  reflecting  mind  not  perverted  by  the  preju- 
dices of  education  and  custom.  I might  fill  many 
letters  with  significant  extracts  from  your  statute 
books ; but  I have  space  only  to  glance  at  a few, 
which  indicate  the  leading  features  of  the  system  you 
cherish  so  tenaciously. 

The  universal  rule  of  the  slave  State  is,  that  “ the 
child  follows  the  condition  of  its  mother^  This  is 


126 


LETTERS 


an  index  to  many  things.  Mai’riages  between  white 
and  colored  people  are  forbidden  by  law  ; yet  a very 
large  number  of  the  slaves  are  brown  or  yellow. 
When  Lafayette  visited  this  country  in  his  old  age, 
he  said  he  was  very  much  struck  by  the  great  change 
in  the  colored  population  of  Virginia ; that  in  the 
time  of  the  Revolution  nearly  all  the  household  slaves 
were  black,  but  when  he  returned  to  America,  he 
found  very  few  of  them  black.  The  advertisements 
in  Southern  newspapers  often  describe  runaway  slaves 
that  “ pass  themselves  for  white  men.”  Sometimes 
they  are  described  as  having  “ straight,  light  hair, 
blue  eyes,  and  clear  complexion.”  This  could  not  be, 
unless  their  fathers,  grandfathers,  and  great-grand- 
fathers had  been  white  men.  But  as  their  mothers 
were  slaves,  the  law  pronounces  them  slaves,  subject 
to  be  sold  on  the  auction-block  whenever  the  necessi- 
ties or  convenience  of  their  masters  or  mistresses  re- 
quire it.  The  sale  of  one’s  own  children,  brothers, 
or  sisters,  has  an  ugly  aspect  to  those  who  are  un- 
accustomed to  it ; and,  obviously,  it  cannot  have  a 
good  moral  influence,  that  law  and  custom  should 
render  licentiousness  a profitable  vice. 

Throughout  the  slave  States,  the  testimony  of  no 
colored  person,  bond  or  free,  can  be  received  against 
a white  man.  You  have  some  laws,  which,  on  the 
face  of  them,  would  seem  to  restrain  inhuman  men 
from  murdering  or  mutilating  slaves  ; but  they  are 
rendered  nearly  null  by  the  law  I have  cited.  Any 
drunken  master,  overseer,  or  patrol  may  go  into  the 
negro  cabins,  and  commit  what  outrages  he  pleases, 
with  perfect  impunity,  if  no  white  person  is  present 
who  chooses  to  witness  against  him.  North  Carolina 
and  Georgia  leave  a large  loop-hole  for  escape,  even  if 


LETTERS. 


127 


white  persons  are  present,  when  murder  is  committed. 
A law  to  punish  persons  for  “ maliciously  killing  a 
slave”  has  this  remarkable  qualification:  “Always 
provided  that  this  act  shall  not  extend  to  any  slave 
dying  of  moderate  correction.”  We  at  the  North  find 
it  difficult  to  understand  how  moderate  punishment 
can  cause  death.  I have  read  several  of  your  law 
books  attentivel}^,  and  I find  no  cases  of  punishment 
for  the  murder  of  a slave,  except  by  fines  paid  to  the 
owner to  indemnify  him  for  the  loss  of  his  property : 
the  same  as  if  his  horse  or  cow  had  been  killed.  In 
the  South  Carolina  Reports  is  a case  where  the  State 
had  indicted  Guy  Raines  for  the  murder  of  a slave 
named  Isaac.  It  was  proved  that  William  Gray,  the 
owner  of  Isaac,  had  given  him  a thousand  lashes.  The 
poor  creature  made  his  escape,  but  was  caught,  and  de- 
livered to  the  custody  of  Raines,  to  be  carried  to  the 
county  jail.  Because  he  refused  to  go,  Raines  gave 
him  five  hundred  lashes,  and  he  died  soon  after.  The 
counsel  for  Raines  proposed  that  he  should  be  allowed 
to  acquit  himself  by  his  oivyi  oath.  The  court  de- 
cided against  it,  because  white  witnesses  had  testified  ; 
but  the  Court  of  Appeals  afterward  decided  he  ought 
to  have  been  exculpated  by  his  own  oath,  and  he  was 
acquitted.  Small  indeed  is  the  chance  for  justice  to 
a slave,  when  his  own  color  are  not  allowed  to  testify, 
if  they  see  him  maimed  or  his  children  murdered; 
when  he  has  slave-holders  for  judges  and  jurors; 
when  the  murderer  can  exculpate  himself  by  his 
own  oath ; and  when  the  law  provides  that  it  is  no 
murder  to  kill  a slave  by  “moderate  correction ! ” 
Your  laws  uniforml}^  declare  that  “ a slave  shall 
be  deemed  a chattel  personal  in  the  hands  of  his 
owner,  to  all  intents,  constructions,  and  purposes 


128 


LETTERS. 


whatsoever."  This,  of  course,  involves  the  right  to 
sell  his  children,  as  if  they  were  pigs  ; also,  to  take 
his  wife  from  him  “ for  any  intent  or  purpose  what- 
soever.” Your  laws  also  make  it  death  for  him  to 
resist  a white  man,  however  brutally  he  may  be 
treated,  or  however  much  his  family  may  be  outraged 
before  his  eyes.  If  he  attempts  to  run  away,  your 
laws  allow  any  man  to  shoot  him. 

By  your  laws,  all  a slave’s  earnings  belong  to  his 
master.  He  can  neither  receive  donations  nor  trans- 
mit property.  If  his  master  allows  him  some  hours 
to  work  for  himself,  and  by  great  energy  and  per- 
severance he  earns  enough  to  buy  his  own  bones  and 
sinews,  his  master  may  make  him  pay  two  or  three 
times  over,  and  he  has  no  redress.  Three  such  cases 
have  come  within  1113^  own  knowledge.  Even  a writ- 
ten promise  from  his  master  has  no  legal  value,  be- 
cause a slave  can  make  no  contracts. 

Your  laws  also  S3^stematically  aim  at  keeping  the 
minds  of  the  colored  people  in  the  most  abject  state 
of  ignorance.  If  white  people  attempt  to  teach  them 
to  read  or  write,  they  are  punished  by  imprisonment 
or  fines  ; if  they  attempt  to  teach  each  other,  they 
are  punished  with  from  twenty  to  thirty-nine  lashes 
each.  It  cannot  be  said  that  the  anti-slavery  agita- 
tion produced  such  laws,  for  they  date  much  farther 
back ; many  of  them  when  we  were  Provinces.  They 
are  the  necessities  of  the  system,  which,  being  itself 
an  outrage  upon  human  nature,  can  be  sustained 
only  by  perpetual  outrages. 

The  next  reliable  source  of  information  is  the  adver. 
tisements  in  the  Southern  papers.  In  the  North  Caro- 
lina (Raleigh)  Standard,”  Mr.  Micaj ah  Ricks  adver- 
tises, “ Runaway,  a negro  woman  and  two  children. 


LETTERS. 


129 


A few  days  before  sbe  went  off,  I burned  her  with 
a hot  iron  on  the  left  side  of  her  face.  I tried  to 
make  the  letter  M.”  In  the  Natchez  “ Courier,”  Mr. 
J.  P.  Ashford  advertises  a runaway  negro  girl,  with  “ a 
good  many  teeth  missing,  and  the  letter  A branded 
on  her  cheek  and  forehead.”  In  the  Lexington  (Ky.) 
“ Observer,”  Mr.  William  Overstreet  advertises  a run- 
away negro  with  “ his  left  eye  out,  scars  from  a dirk 
on  his  left  arm,  and  much  scarred  with  the  whip.” 
I might  quote  from  hundreds  of  such  advertisements, 
offering  rewards  for  runaways,  “ dead  or  alive,”  and 
describing  them  with  “ ears  cut  off,”  “ jaws  broken,” 
“ scarred  by  rifle-balls,”  etc. 

Another  source  of  information  is  afforded  by  your 
“ fugitives  from  injustice,”  with  many  of  whom  I 
have  conversed  freely.  I have  seen  scars  of  the  whip 
and  marks  of  the  branding-iron,  and  I have  listened 
to  their  heart-breaking  sobs,  while  they  told  of 
“ piccaninnies  ” torn  from  their  arms  and  sold. 

Another  source  of  information  is  furnished  by  eman- 
cipated slave-holders.  Sarah  M.  Grimke,  daughter 
of  the  late  Judge  Grimkd,  of  the  Supreme  Court  of 
South  Carolina,  testifies  as  follows  : “ As  I left  my 
native  State  on  account  of  slavery,  and  deserted  the 
home  of  my  fathers  to  escape  the  sound  of  the  lash 
and  the  shrieks  of  tortured  victims,  I would  gladly 
bury  in  oblivion  the  recollection  of  those  scenes  with 
which  I have  been  familiar.  But  this  cannot  be. 
They  come  over  my  memory  like  gory  spectres,  and 
implore  me,  with  resistless  power,  in  the  name  of  a 
God  of  mercy,  in  the  name  of  a crucified  Saviour,  in 
the  name  of  humanity,  for  the  sake  of  the  slave- 
holder, as  well  as  the  slave,  to  bear  witness  to  the 
horrors  of  the  Southern  prison-house.”  She  proceeds 
9 


130 


LETTERS. 


to  describe  dreadful  tragedies,  tire  actors  in  which 
she  sa}^s  were  “ men  and  women  of  the  first  families 
in  South  Carolina  ; ” and  that  their  cruelties  did  not, 
in  the  slightest  degree,  affect  their  standing  in  soci- 
ety. Her  sister,  Angelina  Grimk^,  declared : “ While 
I. live,  and  slavery  lives,  I must  testify  against  it. 
Not  merel}^  for  the  sake  of  my  poor  brothers  and 
sisters  in  bonds ; for  even  were  slavery  no  curse  to 
its  victims,  the  exercise  of  arbitrary  power  works 
such  fearful  ruin  upon  the  hearts  of  slave-holders,  that 
I should  feel  impelled  to  labor  and  pray  for  its  over- 
throw with  my  latest  breath.”  Among  the  horrible 
barbarities  she  enumerates  is  the  case  of  a girl  thir- 
teen years  old,  who  was  flogged  to  death  by  her 
master.  She  says  : “ I asked  a prominent  lawyer, 
who  belonged  to  one  of  the  first  families  in  the  State, 
whether  the  murderer  of  this  helpless  child  could  not 
be  indicted,  and  he  coolly  replied  that  the  slave  was 

Mr.  ’s  property,  and  if  he  chose  to  suffer  the 

loss^  no  one  else  had  anything  to  do  with  it.”  She 

proceeds  to  say  : “ I felt  there  could  be  for  me  no 

rest  in  the  midst  of  such  outrages  and  pollutions. 

Yet  I saw  nothing  of  slavery  in  its  most  vulgar  and 
repulsive  forms.  I saw  it  in  the  city,  among  the 
fashionable  and  the  honorable,  where  it  was  garnished 
by  refinement  and  decked  out  for  show.  It  is  my 
deep,  solemn,  deliberate  conviction,  that  this  is  a 
cause  worth  dying  for.  I say  so  from  what  I have 
seen,  and  heard,  and  known,  in  a land  of  slavery, 
whereon  rest  the  darkness  of  Egypt  and  the  sin  of 
Sodom.”  I once  asked  Miss  Angelina  if  she  thought 
abolitionists  exaggerated  the  horrors  of  slavery.  She 
replied,  with  earnest  emphasis  : “ They  cannot  be 
exaggerated.  It  is  impossible  for  imagination  to  go 


LETTERS. 


131 


beyond  the  facts.”  To  a lady  who  observed  that  the 
time  had  not  yet  come  for  agitating  the  subject,  she 
answered : “ I apprehend  if  thou  wert  a slave.,  toil- 
ing in  the  fields  of  Carolina,  thou  wouldst  think  the 
time  fully  come.” 

Mr.  Thome  of  Kentucky,  in  the  course  of  his  elo- 
quent lectures  on  this  subject,  said  : “ I breathed  my 
first  breath  in  an  atmosphere  of  slavery.  But  though 
I am  heir  to  a slave  inheritance,  I am  bold  to  de- 
nounce the  whole  system  as  an  outrage,  a complica- 
tion of  crimes,  and  wrongs,  and  cruelties,  that  make 
angels  weep.” 

Mr.  Allen  of  Alabama,  in  a discussion  with  the 
students  at  Lane  Seminary,  in  1834,  told  of  a slave 
who  was  tied  up  and  beaten  all  day,  with  a paddle 
full  of  holes.  “At  night,  his  flesh  was  literally 
pounded  to  a jelly.  The  punishment  was  inflicted 
within  hearing  of  the  academy  and  the  public  green. 
But  no  one  took  any  notice  of  it.  No  one  thought 
any  wrong  was  done.  At  our  house,  it  is  so  common 
to  hear  screams  from  a neighboring  plantation  that 
we  think  nothing  of  it.  Lest  any  one  should  think 
that  the  slaves  are  generally  well  treated,  and  that 
the  cases  I mentioned  are  exceptions,  let  me  be  dis- 
tinctly understood  that  cruelty  is  the  rule.,  and  kind- 
ness is  the  exception.” 

In  the  same  discussion,  a student  from  Virginia, 
after  relating  cases  of  great  cruelty,  said : “ Such 
things  are  common  all  over  Virginia  ; at  least,  so  far 
as  I am  acquainted.  But  the  planters  generally  avoid 
punishing  their  slaves  before  strangers.^' 

Miss  Mattie  Griffith  of  Kentucky,  whose  entire 
property  consisted  in  slaves,  emancipated  them  all. 
The  noble-hearted  girl  wrote  to  me : “ I shall  go 


132 


LETTERS. 


forth  into  the  world  penniless ; but  I shall  work  with 
a light  heart,  and,  best  of  all,  I shall  live  with  an 
easy  conscience.”  Previous  to  this  generous  resolu- 
tion, slie  had  never  read  any  abolition  document,  and 
entertained  the  common  Southern  prejudice  against 
them.  But  her  own  observation  so  deeply  impressed 
lier  with  the  enormities  of  slavery,  that  she  was  im- 
pelled to  publish  a book,  called  “ The  Autobiography 
of  a Female  Slave.”  I read  it  with  thrilling  interest ; 
but  some  of  the  scenes  made  my  nerves  quiver  so 
painfull}^  that  I told  her  I hoped  they  were  too 
highly  colored.  She  shook  her  head  sadly,  and  re- 
plied : “ I am  sorry  to  say  that  every  incident  in  the 
book  has  come  within  my  own  knowledge.” 

St.  George  Tucker,  Judge  and  PiT)fessor  of  Law  in 
Virginia,  speaking  of  the  legalized  murder  of  run- 
aways, said  : “ Such  are  the  cruelties  to  which  a state 
of  slavery  gives  birth  — such  the  horrors  to  which 
the  human  mind  is  capable  of  being  reconciled  by  its 
adoption.”  Alluding  to  our  struggle  in  ’76,  he  said  : 
“ While  we  proclaimed  our  resolution  to  live  free  or 
die,  we  imposed  on  our  fellow-men  of  different  com- 
plexion a slavery  ten  thousand  times  worse  than  the 
utmost  extremity  of  the  oppressions  of  which  we  com- 
plained.” 

Governor  Giles,  in  a message  to  the  Legislature  of 
Virginia,  referring  to  the  custom  of  selling  free  col- 
ored people  into  slavery,  as  a punishment  for  offences 
not  capital,  said  : “ Slavery  must  be  admitted  to  be  a 
'punishment  of  the  highest  order ; and,  according  to 
the  just  rule  for  the  apportionment  of  punishment  to 
crimes,  it  ought  to  be  applied  only  to  crimes  of  the 
t highest  order.  The  most  distressing  reflection  in  the 
application  of  this  punishment  to  female  offenders  is. 


LETTERS. 


133 


that  it  extends  to  their  offspring ; and  the  innocent 
are  thus  punished  with  the  guilty.”  Yet  one  hun- 
dred and  twenty  thousand  innocent  babes  in  this 
country  are  annually  subjected  to  a punishment 
which  your  governor  declared  “ ought  to  be  applied 
only  to  crimes  of  the  highest  order.” 

Jefferson  said  : “ One  day  of  American  slavery  is 
worse  than  a thousand  years  of  that  which  we  rose  in 
arms  to  oppose.”  Alluding  to  insurrections,  he  said: 
“ The  Almighty  has  no  attribute  that  can  take  side 
with  us  in  such  a contest.” 

John  Randolph  declared  : “ Every  planter  is  a sen- 
tinel at  his  own  door.  Every  Southern  mother,  when 
she  hears  an  alarm  of  fire  in  the  night,  instinctively 
presses  her  infant  closer  to  her  bosom.” 

Looking  at  the  system  of  slavery  in  the  light  of 
all  this  evidence,  do  you  candidly  think  we  deserve 
“twofold  damnation  ” for  detesting  it?  Can  you  not 
believe  that  we  may  hate  the  system,  and  yet  be  truly 
your  friends  ? I make  allowance  for  the  excited  state 
of  your  mind,  and  for  the  prejudices  induced  by  edu- 
cation. I do  not  care  to  change  your  opinion  of  me ; 
but  I do  wish  you  could  be  persuaded  to  examine  this 
subject  dispassionately,  for  the  sake  of  the  prosperity 
of  Virginia,  and  the  welfare  of  unborn  generations, 
both  white  and  colored.  For  thirty  years,  abolition- 
ists have  been  trying  to  reason  with  slave-holders, 
through  the  press,  and  in  the  halls  of  Congress. 
Their  efforts,  though  directed  to  the  masters  only, 
have  been  met  with  violence  and  abuse  almost  equal 
to  that  poured  on  the  head  of  John  Brown.  Yet 
surely  we,  as  a portion  of  the  Union,  involved  in  the 
expense,  the  degeneracy,  the  danger,  and'  the  dis- 
grace of  this  iniquitous  and  fatal  system,  have  a right 


134 


LETTERS. 


to  speak  about  it,  and  a right  to  be  heard  also.  At  n 
the  North,  we  willingly  publish  pro-slavery  argu- 
ments, and  ask  onl}^  a fair  field  and  no  favor  for  the 
other  side.  But  you  will  not  even  allow  your  own 
citizens  a chance  to  examine  this  important  subject. 
Your  letter  to  me  is  published  in  Northern  papers,  as 
well  as  Southern  ; but  my  reply  will  not  be  allowed  to 
appear  in  any  Southern  paper.  The  despotic  measures 
you  take  to  silence  investigation,  and  shut  out  the 
light  from  your  own  white  population,  prove  how  lit- 
tle reliance  you  have  on  the  strength  of  your  cause. 
In  this  enlightened  age,  all  despotisms  ought  to  come 
to  an  end  by  the  agency  of  moral  and  rational  means. 
But  if  they  resist  such  agencies,  it  is  in  the  order  of 
Providence  that  they  must  come  to  an  end  by  vio- 
lence. History  is  full  of  such  lessons. 

Would  that  the  veil  of  prejudice  could  be  removed 
from  your  eyes.  If  you  would  candidly  examine  the 
statements  of  Governor  Hincks  of  the  British  West 
Indies,  and  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Bleby,  long  time  a mis- 
sionary in  those  islands,  both  before  and  after  eman- 
cipation, you  could  not  fail  to  be  convinced  that  Cash 
IS  a more  powerful  incentive  to  labor  than  the  Lash, 
and  far  safer  also.  One  fact  in  relation  to  those 
islands  is  very  significant.  While  the  working  peo- 
ple were  slaves,  it  was  always  necessary  to  order  out 
tlie  military  during  the  Christmas  holidays;  but, 
since  emancipation,  not  a soldier  is  to  be  seen.  A 
hundred  John  Browns  might  land  there  without  ex- 
citing the  slightest  alarm. 

To  the  personal  questions  you  ask  me,  I will  reply 
in  the  name  of  all  the  women  of  New  England.  It 
would  be  extremely  difficult  to  find  any  woman  in 
our  villages  who  does  not  sew  for  the  poor,  and  watch 


LETTERS. 


135 


with  the  sick,  whenever  occasion  requires.  We  pay 
our  domestics  generous  wages,  with  wdhch  they  can 
purchase  as  many  Christmas  gowns  as  they  please ; a 
process  far  better  for  their  characters,  as  well  as  our 
own,  than  to  receive  their  clothing  as  a charity,  after 
being  deprived  of  just  payment  for  their  labor.  I 
have  never  known  an  instance  where  the  “ pangs  of 
maternity”  did  not  meet  with  requisite  assistance; 
and  here  at  the  North,  after  we  have  helped  the 
mothers,  we  do  not  sell  the  hahies. 

I readily  believe  what  you  state  concerning  the 
kindness  of  man}"  Virginia  matrons.  It  is  creditable 
to  their  hearts : but  after  all,  the  best  that  can  be 
done  in  that  way  is  a poor  equivalent  for  the  perpet- 
ual wrong  done  to  the  slaves,  and  the  terrible  liabili- 
ties to  which  they  are  always  subject.  Kind  masters 
and  mistresses  among  you  are  merely  lucky  accidents. 
If  any  one  chooses  to  be  a brutal  despot,  your  laws  and 
customs  give  him  complete  power  to  do  so.  And  the 
lot  of  those  slaves  who  have  the  kindest  masters  is 
exceedingly  precarious.  In  case  of  death,  or  pecuni- 
ary difficulties,  or  marriages  in  the  family,  they  may 
at  any  time  be  suddenly  transferred  from  protection 
and  indulgence  to  personal  degradation,  or  extreme 
severity ; and  if  they  should  try  to  escape  from  such 
sufferings,  anybody  is  authorized  to  shoot  them  down 
like  dogs. 

With  regard  to  your  declaration  that  “ no  South- 
erner ought  henceforth  to  read  a line  of  my  composi- 
tion,” I reply  that  I have  great  satisfaction  in  the 
consciousness  of  having  nothing  to  lose  in  that  quarter. 
Twenty-seven  years  ago  I published  a book  called 
“An  Appeal  in  Behalf  of  that  Class  of  Americans 
called  Africans.”  It  influenced  the  minds  of  several 


13G 


LETTERS. 


young  men  afterward  conspicuous  in  public  life, 
through  whose  agency  the  cause  was  better  served 
than  it  could  have  been  by  me.  From  that  time  to 
this,  I have  labored  too  earnestl}'-  for  the  slave  to  be 
agreeable  to  slave-holders.  Literary  popularity  was 
never  a paramount  object  with  me,  even  in  my 
youth  ; and,  now  that  I am  old,  I am  utterly  indif- 
ferent to  it.  But,  if  I cared  for  the  exclusion  you 
threaten,  I should  at  least  have  the  consolation  of 
being  exiled  with  honorable  company.  Dr.  Chau- 
ning’s  writings,  mild  and  candid  as  they  are,  breathe 
what  you  would  call  arrant  treason.  William  C. 
Bryant,  in  his  capacity  of  editor,  is  openly  on  our 
side.  The  inspired  muse  of  Whittier  has  incessantly 
sounded  the  trumpet  for  moral  warfare  with  your  in- 
iquitous institution ; and  his  stirring  tones  have  been 
answered,  more  or  less  loudly,  by  Pierpont,  Lowell, 
and  Longfellow.  Emerson,  the  Plato  of  America, 
leaves  the  scholastic  seclusion  he  loves  so  well,  and, 
disliking  noise  with  all  his  poetic  soul,  bravely  takes 
his  stand  among  the  trumpeters.  George  W.  Curtis, 
the  brilliant  writer,  the  eloquent  lecturer,  the  elegant 
man  of  the  world,  lays  the  wealth  of  his  talent  on 
the  altar  of  Freedom,  and  makes  common  cause  with 
rough-shod  reformers. 

The  genius  of  Mrs.  Stowe  carried  the  outworks  of 
your  institution  at  one  dash,  and  left  the  citadel  open 
to  besiegers,  who  are  pouring  in  amain.  In  the 
church,  on  the  ultra-liberal  side,  it  is  assailed  by  the 
powerful  battering-ram  of  Theodore  Parker’s  elo- 
quence. On  the  extreme  orthodox  side  is  set  a huge 
fire,  kindled  by  the  burning  words  of  Dr.  Cheever. 
Between  them  is  Henry  Ward  Beecher,  sending  a 
shower  of  keen  arrows  into  your  iutrenchments ; and 


LETTERS. 


137 


with  him  ride  a troop  of  sharp-shooters  from  all  sects. 
If  you  turn  to  the  literature  of  England  or  France, 
you  will  find  your  institution  treated  with  as  little 
favor.  The  fact  is,  the  whole  civilized  world  pro- 
claims slavery  an  outlaw,  and  the  best  intellect  of  the 
age  is  active  in  hunting  it  down. 

L.  Maria  Child. 


TO  MRS.  s.  M.  PARSONS. 

Watland,  December,  1859. 

I thank  you  very  cordially  for  your  affectionate 
letter,  and  I am  right  glad  you  and  your  husband 
were  so  much  pleased  with  my  doings.  Recent  events 
have  renewed  my  youth  and  strength,  and  filled  me 
with  electricity,  and  one  word  of  apology  for  slavery 
makes  the  sparks  fly.  What  a sublime  martyrdom 
was  that  of  old  John  Brown ! There  was  nothing 
wanting  in  the  details  of  his  conduct.  There  was  a 
grand  simplicity  and  harmony  throughout. 

I reverenced  him  for  refusing  to  be  prayed  over  by 
slave-holding  priests  ; and  how  my  heart  jumped  to- 
ward him,  when  I read  of  his  kissing  the  little  col- 
ored child,  on  his  way  to  the  gallows  ! In  last  night’s 
“ Liberator  ” there  is  a very  touching  letter,  which  I 
received  from  a colored  man  in  Ohio,  about  John 
Brown.  You  will  see  it,  for  I hear  you  have  sub- 
scribed for  that  paper.  The  colored  people  in  Bos- 
ton held  a prayer-meeting  all  day,  on  the  2d  ^ of  De- 
cember, and  I chose  to  spend  that  solemn  day  with 
them.  There  was  nothing  there  to  jar  upon  the  ten- 
der sadness  of  my  feelings.  There  was  no  one  to 

1 The  2d  of  December,  1859,  was  the  day  on  which  John  Brown 
was  hanged 


138 


LETTERS. 


question  the  old  hero’s  claims  to  reverence,  or  to 
doubt  his  sanity  of  mind.  All  they  knew  about  it 
was,  that  he  was  the  friend  of  their  oppressed  race, 
and  that  he  proved  it  by  dying  for  them.  It  was  very 
touching  to  hear  them  sing  appropriate  Methodist 
hymns  so  plaintively.  Some  of  their  prayers  were 
uncouth,  of  course,  because  the  pride  and  prejudice 
of  white  men  have  prevented  their  having  a chance 
for  mental  culture  ; but  many  of  them  were  eloquent, 
from  the  simple  effect  of  earnestness.  One  old  black 
man  who  informed  the  Lord  that  he  “ had  been  a 
slave,  and  knew  how  bitter  it  was,”  ejaculated  with 
great  fervor,  “and  since  it  has  pleased  thee  to  take 
away  our  Moses,  oh ! Lord  God  I raise  us  up  a 
Joshua.”  To  which  all  the  congregation  responded 
with  a loud  “Amen!  ” The  16th  of  December  was 
more  painful  to  me  than  the  2d.  Those  other  vic- 
tims were  young,  and  wanted  to  live ; and  they  had 
not  so  many  manifestations  of  sympathy  to  sustain 
them  as  their  grand  old  leader  had.  If  Brown  had 
not  taken  the  arsenal,  but  had  simply  taken  off  such 
slaves  as  wanted  to  go,  as  he  did  in  Missouri,  and  had 
died  for  that,  I .should  be  more  completel}^  satisfied 
with  his  martyrdom.  But  he  liked  Old  Testament 
heroes  better  than  I do.  He  had  his  mind  filled  with 
the  idea  of  founding  a “ city  of  refuge  ; ” and  as  he 
acted  from  his  own  conscientious  convictions,  I have 
no  disposition  to  blame  him,  though  I wish  it  had 
been  otherwise.  The  lesson  I learn  from  it  is  to  try 
to  act  up  to  my  own  standard  of  duty  as  faithfully 
as  he  did  to  his.  In  a moral  point  of  view  his  fail- 
ure will  prove  a magnificent  success,  worth  a thousand 
such  as  be  planned. 

“ God  moves  in  a mysterious  way, 

His  wonders  to  perform.” 


LETTERS. 


139 


TO  MISS  LUCY  OSGOOD. 

Watland,  1859. 

Your  package  arrived  on  Saturday  evening,  but 
Theodore  Parker  had  the  start  of  you.  He  had  sent 
me  the  sermon  the  Thursday  before,  accompanied  by 
a brief  little  farewell  note  in  pencil,  wliicli  I shall 
treasure  among  my  “ sacred  relics  ; ” for  my  heart 
misgives  me  that  I shall  never  look  upon  that  So- 
cratic  head  again.  I read  the  sermon,  forthwith,  to 
Mr.  Child,  and  a jewel  of  a sermon  we  both  thought 
it.  Though  not  a farewell  discourse,  it  seems  to  have 
a farewell  sadness  about  it.  . . . Newman’s  book  on 
The  Soul  seemed  to  me  a very  admirable  work.  The 
Phases  of  Faith  pleased  me  by  the  honesty  of  its  con- 
fessions, and  I read  it  with  all  the  eagerness  we  all 
so  naturally  feel  to  arrive  at  the  inmost  spiritual  se- 
crets of  another  soul  ; but  the  conclusion  left  me 
very  uncomfortable.  It  seemed,  as  the  collegian  said 
in  his  theme,  “ to  land  me  in  the  great  ocean  of  eter- 
nity.” I had  travelled  so  far,  and  so  confidently,  with 
him,  to  arrive  — nowhere  ! I cannot  say,  as  Lessing 
did,  that  if  God  offered  him  the  truth  with  one  hand, 
and  the  investigation  with  the  other,  he  would  choose 
the  latter.  I want  to  believe.  Above  all  things,  I 
want  to  believe.  If  I can  only  be  sure  that  I do  not 
accept  delusion  for  truth.  Different  qualities  of  my 
mind  so  nearly  balance  each  other  that  they  cause 
me  severe  conflicts.  No  mortal  will  ever  know 
through  what  long  deserts  I have  passed  ; how  bitter 
have  proved  the  waters  wherewith  I have  tried  to 
slake  my  mighty  thirst ; and  what  hordes  of  Philis- 
tines have  come  out  to  do  battle.  Whether  I shall 
ever  get  a sight  of  Canaan  before  I die,  I know  not. 


140 


LETTERS. 


TO  MRS.  S.  B.  SIIA\Y. 

Wayland,  1859. 

I would  gladly  come  to  meet  }mu,  to  save  you 
trouble ; but  for  uo  other  reason.  As  for  turning  us 
out  of  our  chamber,  we  transfer  only  our  bodies  ; and 
should  you  consider  that  any  great  trouble,  for  the 
sight  of  a precious  friend  ? Moreover,  suppose  it  was 
any  trouble,  be  it  known  to  you  that  I would  turn 
m^^self  out  of  my  house,  and  live  in  a tree,  any  time, 
for  you.  Please  put  quite  out  of  your  head  all  idea 
that  your  coming  will  give  me  trouble.  In  the  first 
place,  I will  promise  not  to  take  trouble.  In  the 
next  place,  I would  inform  you  that  the  world  is  di- 
vided into  two  classes : those  who  love  to  minister 
to  others,  and  those  who  like  to  be  ministered  unto. 
I think  I belong  to  the  first  class.  I also  belong  to 
the  class  described  in  “ Counterparts : ” those  to  whom 
it  is  more  necessary  to  love  than  to  be  loved  ; though 
both  are  essential  to  my  happiness.  Bad,  isn’t  it? 
for  a childless  woman  of  sixty  years.  But  then  my 
good  David  serves  me  for  husband  and  “ baby  and 
all.”  What  a singular  book  is  that  “ Counterparts.” 
It  has  some  of  the  inspiration  of  the  tripod,  and  some 
of  the  confusion  also.  The  philosophy  is  sometimes 
unintelligible,  and  the  moral  influence  in  some  degree 
dubious.  How  gorgeous  is  the  style  ; how  the  em- 
broidery and  the  jewels  are  piled  on  ! It  made  me 
think  of  Madame  Bishop’s  singing.  She  was  so  fond 
of  fioritune  in  music,  that  when  she  sang  some  com- 
mon, simple  air,  even  Rosa  was  sometimes  puzzled 
to  recognize  it.  Yet  Madame  Bishop  charmed  me 
with  her  tone-embroidery,  and  so  does  this  woman 
with  her  word-embroidery.  Some  of  her  comparisons 


LETTERS. 


141 


sparkle  with  poetry ; but  it  is  “ sparkle,”  not  glow. 
It  is  from  outward,  not  inward  light.  They  tell  me 
she  is  a German,  resident  in  England  ; and  that  ac- 
counts for  the  un-Englishness  of  some  of  her  phrase- 
^ Jewess  she  is,  of  course.  I am  always 
pleased  to  have  the  Jews  do  anything  great;  as  I am 
to  have  the  colored  people,  or  any  other  persecuted 
race.  I was  so  glad  the  Rothschilds  and  others  com- 
pelled the  Emperor  of  Austria  to  repeal  his  contempt- 
uous law,  by  resolving  to  have  no  commercial  rela- 
tions with  Austrians  ! The  silly  despot  concluded  it 
was  safer  to  offend  the  Pope  than  to  displease  the 
wealthy  Jews. 


TO  MRS.  S.  B.  SHAW. 

1860. 

I have  made  an  excursion  lately,  which  is  unusual 
for  me.  Miss  L.  wanted  to  go  to  Newbury  to  see 
her  sister,  and  was  too  feeble  to  go  alone,  and  asked 
me  to  go  with  her.  Her  sister  owns  a mill,  where 
the  Artichoke  joins  the  Merrimack.  . . . 

Friend  Whittier  lives  about  four  miles  from  the 
mill,  across  the  river.  The  bridge  was  being  re- 
paired, which  made  it  necessary  to  go  a long  way 
round.  I was  not  sorry,  for  the  scenery  was  lovely. 
We  rode  along  the  Merrimack  nearly  all  the  way. 
The  sunshine  was  rippling  it  with  gold,  and  the  oars 
of  various  little  boats  and  rafts  were  dropping  silver 
as  they  went.  I think  nature  never  made  such  a 
vivid  impression  on  me  as  it  has  this  summer.  I 
don’t  know  whether  it  is  because  I have  so  very  few 
human  ties,  or  whether  it  is  that  I feel  a sort  of  fare- 
well tenderness  for  the  earth,  because  I am  growing 
old. 


LETTERS. 


142 

Friend  Whittier  and  his  gentle  Quakerly  sister 
seemed  delighted  to  see  me,  or,  rather,  he  seemed  de- 
lighted and  she  seemed  pleased.  There  was  a Re- 
publican meeting  that  evening,  at  which  he  felt 
obliged  to  show  himself  ; but  he  came  back  before 
long,  having  indiscreetly  excused  himself  by  stating 
that  I was  at  his  house.  The  result  was,  that  a posse 
of  Republicans  came,  after  the  meeting  was  over,  to 
look  at  the  woman  who  “ fired  hot  shot  at  Governor 
Wise.”  In  the  interim,  however,  I had  some  cosy 
chat  with  Friend  Whittier,  and  it  was  right  pleasant 
going  over  our  anti-slavery  reminiscences.  Oh,  those 
were  glorious  times ! working  shoulder  to  shoulder, 
in  such  a glow  of  faith  ! — too  eager  working  for  hu- 
manity to  care  a fig  whether  our  helpers  were  priests 
or  infidels.  That’s  the  service  that  is  pleasing  in  the 
sight  of  God. 

Whittier  made  piteous  complaints  of  time  wasted 
and  strength  exhausted  by  the  numerous  loafers  who 
came  to  see  him  out  of  mere  idle  curiosity,  or  to  put 
up  with  him  to  save  a penny.  I was  amused  to  hear 
his  sister  describe  some  of  these  irruptions  in  her  slow, 
Quakerly  fashion.  “ Thee  has  no  idea,”  said  she, 
“ how  much  time  Greenleaf  spends  in  trying  to  lose 
these  people  in  the  streets.  Sometimes  he  comes 
home  and  says,  ‘ Well,  sister,  I had  hard  work  to  lose 
him,  but  I have  lost  him.’  ” “ But  I can  never  lose  a 
said  Whittier.  “ The  women  are  more  pertina- 
cious than  the  men  ; don’t  thee  find  ’em  so,  Maria  ? ” 
I told  him  I did.  “How  does  thee  manage  to  get 
time  to  do  anything  ? ” said  he.  I told  him  I took 
care  to  live  away  from  the  railroad,  and  kept  a bull- 
dog and  a pitch-fork,  and  advised  him  to  do  the  same. 


LETTERS. 


143 


TO  SAMUEL  E.  SEWALL. 

Wayland,  September  20,  1860. 

I expect  to  be  in  Boston  in  a few  days,  and  should 
like  to  look  at  RantouFs  speech,  if  you  have  the  vol- 
ume at  your  office.  . . . 

It  seems  as  if  slavery  would  be  the  death  of  me. 
If  all  I suffer  on  the  subject  counts  as  vicarious  atone- 
ment for  the  slave-holders,  they  are  in  a hopeful  way. 
My  indignation  rises  higher  than  it  used  to  in  my 
younger  days.  According  to  the  general  rule,  I ought 
to  grow  calmer,  but  I do  not.  If  the  monster  had 
one  head,  assuredly  I should  be  a Charlotte  Corday. 

TO  MISS  LUCY  OSGOOD. 

Wayland,  1860. 

You  are  almost  constantly  present  with  me,  in 
these  days  of  this  declining  year,  and  to-morrow  I 
am  sure  my  first  waking  thought  will  be  of  you  and 
the  dear  one  who  a year  ago  passed  behind  the  veil ; 
that  veil  so  dark  and  heavy,  with  merely  a line  of 
golden  light  around  its  edges,  intimating  the  inner, 
invisible  glory.  More  and  more  strongly  do  I feel,  as 
I grow  older,  that  this  unsatisfactory  existence  is  the 
mere  threshold  of  a palace  of  glories  ; but  reason  is 
importunate  with  its  questions  of  how  and  where.  I 
strive  to  attain  to  an  habitual  state  of  child-like  trust, 
to  feel  always,  as  I do  sometimes,  like  a little  one 
that  places  its  hand  within  its  father's,  and  is  satis- 
fied to  be  led,  it  knows  not  whither. 

Mr. is  a great,  good  man,  and  when  he  lets 

doctrines  alone  his  preaching  always  edifies  and 
strengthens  me.  But  he  has  no  logic  in  his  com- 
position ; not  a jot ; and  sometimes  I wish  I had  not. 


144 


LETTERS. 


Sometimes  I think  the  light  from  God’s  own  throne 
is  best  transmitted  through  the  transparent  golden 
veil  of  poesy.  But  there  stands  my  reason,  a stub- 
born fact ; and  it  will  not  accept  any  supernatural 
mediums  between  my  soul  and  its  Heavenly  Father ; 
whether  the  mediums  be  Virgin  Mothers,  or  Divine 
Humanities.  There  is  undoubtedly  a sense  in  which 
the  doctrine  of  Divine  Humanity  is  true ; for  in  its 
highest  ideal  all  humanity  is  divine.  But  that  sense 
would  be  very  unsatisfactory  to  Mr. . 

How  I should  like  to  know  what  your  sister’s  act- 
ive soul  is  now  thinking  of  all  these  things ! Per- 
haps she  has  introduced  Theodore  Parker  to  Dr. 
Plopkins ; and  perhaps  Luther  comes  up  behind 
them  “ with  the  sound  of  iron  shoes  upon  a stone 
pavement,  ” as  Swedenborg  describes  his  walk  in 
the  spiritual  world.  It  bears  considerable  resem- 
blance to  his  walk  in  this  world,  I think.  If  Dr. 
Channing  joins  them,  it  will  be  in  velvet  slippers,  on 
the  softest  carpet. 

TO  MRS.  s.  B.  SHAW. 

Medford,  1860. 

You  doubtless  remember  Thomas  Sims,  the  fugitive 
slave,  who  was  surrendered  in  Boston,  in  1852.  I saw 
a letter  from  him  to  his  sister  expressing  an  intense 
longing  for  his  freedom,  and  I swore  “ by  the  Eternal,” 
as  General  Jackson  used  to  say,  that  as  Massachusetts 
had  sent  him  into  slavery,  Massachusetts  should  bring 
him  back.  I resolved,  also,  that  it  should  all  be  done 
with  pro-slavery  money.  They  told  me  that  I had 
undertaken  to  “ hoe  a very  hard  row.”  I laughed, 
and  said,  “ It  shall  be  done : General  Jackson  never 
retracts.”  I expected  to  have  to  write  at  least  a hun- 


LETTERS. 


145 


dred  letters,  and  to  have  to  station  myself  on  the 
steps  of  the  State  House  this  winter,  to  besiege  peo- 
ple. Sims  is  a skilful  mechanic  and  his  master  asks 
$1,800  for  him.  A large  sum  for  an  abolitionist  to 
get  out  of  pro-slavery  purses  ! But  I got  it ! I got  it ! 
I got  it ! Hurrah  ! I had  written  only  eighteen  let- 
ters, when  one  gentleman  promised  to  pay  the  whole 
sum,  provided  I would  not  mention  his  name. 

TO  HON.  LEMUEL  SHAW. 

Medfokd,  January  3,  1861. 

To  THE  Hon.  Lemuel  Shaw,  — By  this  mail  I 
send  you  three  pamphlets,  for  which  I ask  a candid 
perusal.  With  deep  sadness  I saw  your  respected 
and  influential  name  signed  to  an  address  in  favor  of 
repealing  the  Personal  Liberty  Bill.  I trust  you  will 
not  deem  me  disrespectful  if  I ask  whether  you  have 
reflected  well  on  all  the  bearings  of  this  important 
subject.  Perhaps  you  may  consider  me,  and  those 
with  whom  I labor,  as  persons  prone  to  look  only  on 
one  side.  Grant  that  it  is  so  — is  it  not  the  neglected 

O 

side  ? is  it  not  the  right  side  ? And  are  not  you 
yourself,  in  common  with  all  human  beings,  liable  to 
look  upon  things  too  much  from  one  point  of  view  ? 
I presume  that  your  social  environment  is  almost 
entirely  conservative;  and  conservative  of  habits  and 
stereotyped  sayings,  rather  than  of  the  original  prin- 
ciples on  which  the  government  of  this  country  was 
founded.  Have  you  carefully  examined  and  duly 
considered  the  other  side?  This  mutual  agreement 
between  North  and  South  to  keep  millions  of  fellow- 
beings  in  abject  degradation  and  misery  cannot  pos- 
sibly be  right.  No  sophistry  can  make  it  appear  so 
10 


146 


LETTERS. 


to  hearts  and  minds  not  frozen  or  blinded  by  the  in- 
fluence of  trade  or  politics. 

If  the  common  plea  of  the  inferiority  of  the  African 
race  be  true,  that  only  adds  meanness  to  our  guilt; 
the  magnanimous  strong  are  ashamed  not  to  protect 
the  weak.  But  then  everybody  knows  that  an  im- 
mense proportion  of  American  slaves  are  not  black. 
Thousands  upon  thousands  of  them  are  lighter  than 
Italians,  Spanish,  Portuguese,  Greeks,  etc.  They  are 
the  sons  and  daughters  of  our  presidents,  governors, 
'judges,  senators,  and  generals.  The  much  vaunted 
Anglo-Saxon  blood  is  coursing  in  their  veins,  through 
generations  after  generations. 

If  you  set  aside  heart  and  conscience  as  appropriate 
guides  for  women  only,  and  assume  pure  cold  intellect 
for  a standard  of  action,  what  answer  will  enlightened 
reason  give,  if  you  ask  whether  free  institutions  in 
one  part  of  the  country  can  possibly  survive  continual 
compromises  with  despotism  in  another  part  ? If  the 
lowest  person  in  the  community  is  legally  oppressed, 
is  not  the  highest  endangered  thereby  ? And  does 
not  the  process  inevitably  demoralize  the  people  by 
taking  away  from  law  that  which  renders  it  sacred, 
namely,  equal  and  impartial  justice  ? I again  ask 
you,  respectfully,  and  earnestly,  to  read  my  pamphlets 
with  candid  attention.  If  the  request  seems  to  you 
obtrusive  or  presumptuous,  my  apology  is  that  I be- 
lieve you  to  be  an  upright  and  kind  man,  and  there- 
fore infer  that  your  heart  and  conscience  are  not  in 
fault,  but  only  the  blinding  influences  of  your  social 
environment.  Yours  respectfully, 

L.  Maria  Child. 


LETTERS. 


147 


TO  MRS.  S.  B.  SHAW. 

Medford,  January,  1861. 

Tired  in  mind  and  body,  I sit  down  to  write  to  you 
and  tell  you  all  about  it.  On  Wednesday  evening  I 
went  to  Mrs.  Chapman’s  reception.  The  hall  inside 
was  beautiful  with  light  and  banners  ; and  outside 
the  street  was  beautiful  with  moonlight  and  prismatic 
icicles.  All  went  on  quietly.  People  walked  about 
and  talked,  occasionally  enlivened  by  music  of  the 
Germania  Band.  They  seemed  to  enjoy  themselves, 
and  I (being  released  from  the  care  of  unruly  boys, 
demolishing  cake  and  spilling  slops  as  they  did 
last  year)  did  my  best  to  help  them  have  a good 
time.  But  what  with  being  introduced  to  strangers, 
and  chatting  with  old  acquaintances  half  forgotten,  I 
went  home  to  Derne  Street  very  weary,  yet  found 
it  impossible  for  me  to  sleep.  I knew  there  were  very 
formidable  preparations  to  mob  the  anti-slavery  meet- 
ing the  next  day,  and  that  the  mayor  was  avowedly 
on  the  side  of  the  mob.  I would  rather  have  given 
fifty  dollars  than  attend  the  meeting ; but  conscience 
told  me  it  was  a duty.  I was  excited  and  anxious  ; 
not  for  myself,  but  for  Wendell  Phillips.  Hour  after 
hour  of  the  night,  I heard  the  clock  strike,  while 
visions  were  passing  through  my  mind  of  that  noble 
head  assailed  by  murderous  hands,  and  I obliged  to 
stand  by  without  the  power  to  save  him. 

I went  very  early  in  the  morning,  and  entered  the 
Tremont  Temple  by  a private  labyrinthine  passage. 
There  I found  a company  of  young  men,  a portion  of 
the  self-constituted  body-guard  of  Mr.  Phillips.  They 
looked  calm,  but  resolute  and  stern.  I knew  they  were 
all  armed,  as  well  as  hundreds  of  others ; but  their 


148 


LETTERS. 


weapons  were  not  visible.  The  women  friends  came 
in  gradually  by  the  same  private  passage.  It  was  a 
solemn  gathering,  I assure  you  ; for  though  there  was 
a pledge  not  to  use  weapons  unless  Mr.  Phillips  or 
'some  other  anti-slavery  speaker  was  personally  in 
danger,  still  nobody  could  foresee  what  might  happen. 
The  meeting  opened  well.  The  anti-slavery  senti- 
ment was  there  in  strong  force;  but  soon  the  mob 
began  to  yell  from  the  galleries.  They  came  tumb- 
ling in  by  hundreds.  The  papers  will  tell  you  of 
their  goings  on.  Such  yelling,  screeching,  stamping, 
and  bellowing  I never  heard.  It  was  a full  realiza- 
tion of  the  old  phrase,  “ All  hell  broke  loose.”  Mr. 
Phillips  stood  on  the  front  of  the  platform  for  a full 
hour,  trying  to  be  heard  whenever  the  storm  lulled 
a little.  They  cried,  “ Throw  him  out ! ” “ Throw  a 
brick-bat  at  him  ! ” “ Your  house  is  a-fire  ; don’t  you 
know  your  house  is  a-fire  ? go  put  out  your  house ! ” 
Then  they ’d  sing,  with  various  bellowing  and  shriek- 
ing accompaniments,  “ Tell  John  Andrew,  tell  John 
Andrew,  John  Brown ’s  dead.”  I should  think  there 
were  four  or  five  hundred  of  them.  At  one  time  they 
all  rose  up,  many  of  them  clattered  down-stairs,  and 
there  was  a surging  forward  towards  the  platform. 
My  heart  beat  so  fast  I could  hear  it ; for  I did  not 
then  know  how  Mr.  Phillips’s  armed  friends  w'ere 
stationed  at  every  door  and  in  the  middle  of  every 
aisle.  They  formed  a firm  wall  which  the  mob  could 
not  pass.  At  last  it  was  announced  that  the  police 
, were  coming.  I saw  and  heard  nothing  of  them,  but 
there  was  a lull.  Mr.  Phillips  tried  to  speak,  but  his 
I voice  was  again  drowned.  Then  by  a clever  stroke 
of  management  he  stooped  forward  and  addressed  his 
speech  to  the  reporters  stationed  directly  below  him. 


LETTERS. 


149 


This  tantalized  the  mob,  and  they  began  to  call  out, 
“ Speak  louder ! We  want  to  hear  what  you  ’re  say- 
ing.” Whereupon  he  raised  his  voice,  and  for  half 
an  hour  he  seemed  to  hold  them  in  the  hollow  of  his 
hand.  But  as  soon  as  he  sat  down  they  began  to 
yell  and  sing  again,  to  prevent  any  more  speaking. 
But  Higginson  made  himself  heard  through  the  storm, 
and  spoke  in  very  manly  and  effective  style  ; the  pur- 
port of  which  was  that  to-day  he  would  set  aside  the 
subject  of  slavery,  and  take  his  stand  upon  the  right 
of  free  speech,  which  the  members  of  this  society 
were  determined  to  maintain  at  every  hazard.  I for- 
got to  mention  that  Wendell  Phillips  was  preceded 
by  James  Freeman  Clarke,  whom  the  mob  treated 
with  such  boisterous  insults  that  he  was  often  obliged 
to  pause  in  his  remarks.  After  Mr.  Phillips,  R.  W. 
Emerson  tried  to  address  the  people,  but  his  voice 
was  completely  drowned.  After  the  meeting  ad- 
journed, a large  mob  outside  waited  for  Mr.  Phillips, 
but  he  went  out  by  the  private  entrance,  and  arrived 
home  safely. 

In  the  afternoon  meeting  the  uproar  was  greater 
than  it  had  been  in  the  forenoon.  The  mob  cheered 
and  hurrahed  for  the  Union,  and  for  Edward  Everett, 
for  Mayor  Wightman,  and  for  Charles  Francis  Adams. 
The  mayor  came  at  last,  and,  mounting  the  platform, 
informed  his  “ fellow-citizens  ” in  the  galleries  that 
tlie  trustees  of  the  building  had  requested  him  to 
disperse  the  meeting  and  clear  the  hall.  Turning 
the  meeting  out-of-doors  was  precisely  what  they 
wanted  him  to  do. 

[The  remainder  of  this  letter  has  been  lost,  but  the 
purport  of  it  was,  that  on  the  mayor’s  complying 
with  the  demand  that  he  should  read  the  letter  aloud 


150 


LETTERS. 


to  the  meeting,  it  appeared  that  the  trustees  had  de- 
sired him  to  disperse  tlie  moh.,  and  not  the  meeting. 
The  presiding  officer  (Mr.  Edmund  Quincy)  there- 
upon called  upon  him  to  fulfil  his  duty  and  eject  the 
mob  from  the  hall,  which  was  done  within  ten  minutes, 
to  the  intense  chagrin  of  the  rioters  and  the  discom- 
fiture of  the  mayor,  and  the  meeting  proceeded  with- 
out further  serious  interruption.  The  mayor,  on 
leaving  the  hall,  promised  that  an  adequate  police 
force  should  be  sent  to  protect  the  evening  meeting, 
and  he  then  returned  to  the  City  Hall  to  issue  an 
order  that  the  hall  should  be  closed  and  no  meeting 
permitted  there  that  evening.  These  events  took 
place  at  the  annual  meeting  of  the  Massachusetts 
Anti-Slavery  Society,  on  the  24th  of  January,  1861. 
— Eds.] 


TO  THE  SAME. 

Wayland,  May  5, 1861. 

I am  glad  to  witness  the  universal  enthusiasm  for 
the  U.  S.  flag,  though  the  sight  of  that  flag  always 
inspires  a degree  of  sadness  in  my  own  breast.  I 
should  so  delight  in  having  it  thoroughly  worthy  of 
being  honored  ! But  every  flap  of  the  stars  and 
stripes  repeats  to  me  the  story  of  those  poor  slaves 
who,  through  great  perils  and  sufferings,  succeeded 
in  making  their  way  to  Fort  Pickens,  strengthened 
by  the  faith  that  President  Lincoln  was  their  friend, 
and  that  his  soldiers  would  protect  them.  They 
were  chained  and  sent  back  to  their  masters,  who 
whipped  them  till  they  nearly  died  under  the  lash. 
When  such  things  are  done  under  the  U.  S.  flag,  I 
cannot  and  I will  not  say,  “ God  bless  it ! ” Nay, 
unless  it  ceases  from  this  iniquity,  I say,  deliberately 


LETTERS. 


151 


and  solemnl}^,  “ May  the  curse  of  God  rest  upon  it ! 
May  it  be  trampled  in  the  dust,  kicked  by  rebels,  and 
spit  upon  by  tyrants  ! ” But  I think  it  will  cease 
from  this  iniquity.  These  wicked  things  that  have 
happened  at  Fort  Pickens  and  Fort  Monroe,  occurred 
during  the  twenty  days  before  hostilities  commenced. 
The  U.  S.  government,  having  offered  the  rebels 
twenty  days  during  which  they  might  make  up  their 
minds  to  lay  down  their  arms,  perhaps  thought  it  nec- 
essary to  obey  that  hateful  clause  in  the  Constitution. 
But  now  the  offered  term  of  grace  has  expired.  If 
they  continue  in  arms,  they  are  no  longer  a part  of 
the  Union,  and  none  of  those  devilish  obligations  of 
the  Union  can  be  considered  as  any  longer  binding 
upon  us  ; not  even  by  men  who  have  no  other  con- 
sciences than  legal  consciences.  . . . Twenty  years 
ago,  John  Quincy  Adams  maintained  on  the  floor  of 
Congress  the  constitutional  right  of  the  United  States 
to  proclaim  emancipation  to  all  the  slaves  in  time  of 
war,  either  foreign  or  civil.  He  maintained  that  it  was 
in  strict  conformity  to  the  law  of  nations  and  the  laws 
of  war,  and  he  challenged  any  man  to  prove  to  the  con- 
trary. No  one  attempted  to  do  it.  Let  us  hope  and 
trust  that  a great  good  is  coming  out  of  this  seeming 
evil.  Meanwhile,  I wait  to  see  how  the  United  States 
will  deport  itself.  When  it  treats  the  colored  people 
with  justice  and  humanity,  I will  mount  its  flag  in 
my  great  elm-tree,  and  I will  thank  you  to  present  me 
with  a flag  for  a breast-pin  ; but,  until  then,  I would 
as  soon  wear  the  rattlesnake  upon  my  bosom  as  the 
eagle.  I have  raved  and  I have  wept  about  that 
Fort  Pickens  affair.  When  one  puts  one’s  self  in  the 
slave’s  stead,  pity  and  indignation  will  boil  over  in 
rage,  in  view  of  such  enormities. 


152 


LETTERS, 


TO  MISS  LUCY  SEARLE. 

Wayland,  June  5,  1861. 

I return  “ Silas  Marner  ” with  cordial  thanks.  It 
entertained  me  greatly.  His  honest  attempts  at  ed- 
ucation were  extremely  amusing.  What  a genuine 
touch  of  nature  was  “ Eppie  in  the  tole  hole  ! ” What 
a significant  fact  it  is  in  modern  literature,  that  the 
working  class  are  so  generally  the  heroes.  No  princes 
in  disguise  are  necessary  now  to  excite  an  interest  in 
the  reader.  The  popular  mind  is  educated  up  to  the 
point  of  perceiving  that  carpenters,  weavers,  etc.,  are 
often  real  princes  in  disguise.  The  longer  I live,  the 
more  entirely  and  intensely  do  my  sympathies  go 
with  the  masses. 

I am  glad  to  see  some  amendment  with  regard  to 
sending  back  fugitive  slaves.  Those  at  Fort  Monroe 
are  to  be  protected  so  long  as  Virginia  continues  in 
rebellion.  God  grant  that  all  the  slave-holders  may 
rebel,  and  remain  in  rebellion,  till  the  emancipation 
of  their  slaves  is  accomplished!  Success  to  Jeff.  Da- 
vis, till  he  goads  the  free  States  into  doing,  from  pol- 
icy and  revenge,  what  they  have  not  manhood  to  do 
from  justice  and  humanity ! It  is  a dreadful  thing, 
a most  demoralizing  thing,  to  have  the  laws  of  one’s 
country  at  such  variance  with  the  laws  of  God.  I 
never  realized  it  so  fully  as  when  I heard  your  good, 
conscientious,  intelligent  friend  say  that  he  would 
send  back  a fugitive  slave  because  the  Constitution 
required  it.  When  our  fathers  joined  hands  with 
slave-holders  to  form  the  Constitution,  with  their  feet 
on  the  prostrate  and  helpless  slaves,  they  did  sad 
work  for  their  descendants.  If  my  father  had  made 
a compact  with  a rich  neighbor  that  I would  help 


LETTERS. 


153 


liim  rob  a poor  one,  I should  break  the  compact. 
Law  is  not  law,  if  it  violates  principles  of  eternal 
justice.  If  drunken  foreigners  are  hired  to  vote  for 
a member  of  Congress,  and  the  vote  of 'that  member 
causes  the  enactment  of  the  Fugitive  Slave  Law, 
probably  because  he  wishes  to  obtain  some  still  higher 
office,  am  I bound  to  sell  my  soul  to  perdition  be- 
cause the  iniquity  has  been  framed  into  a law  ? The 
dictionary  does  not  contain  words  enough  to  express 
my  detestation  of  all  laws  framed  for  the  support  of 
tyranny.  To  keep  that  unrighteous  compact  with 
fellow-citizens  was  bad  enough,  but  to  keep  it  with 
rebels,  who  have  over  and  over  again  violated  all 
their  part  of  the  compact,  is  adding  imbecility  and 
absui’dity  to  wickedness. 

TO  MISS  HENTIIETTA  SARGENT. 

Watland,  July  26,  1861. 

One  can’t  think  about  anything  else  but  the  war ; 
and  where  is  the  prophet  inspired  to  see  the  end 
thereof  ? All  seems  to  me  a mass  of  dark  thunder- 
clouds, illumined  liere  and  there  with  flashes  of  light 
that  show  God  is  behind  the  clouds.  I have  never 
in  my  life  felt  the  presence  of  God  as  I do  at  this 
crisis.  The  nation  is  in  his  hand,  and  he  is  purging 
it  by  a fiery  process.  The  people  would  not  listen  to 
the  warnings  and  remonstrances  of  the  abolitionists, 
uttered  year  after  year  in  every  variety  of  tone,  from 
the  gentle  exhortations  of  May  and  C banning  to  the 
scathing  relxikes  of  Garrison  ; from  the  close,  hard 
logic  of  Goodell  to  the  flowing  eloquence  of  Phillips. 
More  than  a quarter  of  a century  ago,  Whittier’s  pen 
of  fire  wrote  on  the  wall,  — 

“ Oh  ! rouse  ye,  ere  the  storm  eomes  forth,  — 

The  gathered  wrath  of  God  and  man  ! 


154 


LETTERS. 


In  vain.  The  people  went  on  with  their  feasting  and 
their  merchandise,  and  lo  ! the  storm  is  upon  ns ! 

Every  instance  of  sending  back  poor  fugitive  slaves 
has  cut  into  my  heart  like  the  stab  of  a bowie-knife, 
and  made  me  dejected  for  days  ; not  only  because  I 
pitied  the  poor  wretches  who  trusted  the  govern- 
ment in  vain,  but  because  I felt  that  all  moral  dig- 
nity was  taken  out  of  the  conflict  by  such  incidents, 
and  that  the  enthusiasm  of  the  soldiers  and  the  peo- 
ple must  be  diminished  by  it.  A soldier  needs  a great 
idea  to  fight  for ; and  how  can  the  idea  of  freedom 
be  otherwise  than  obscured  by  witnessing  the  wicked, 
mean,  unmanly  surrendering  of  poor  trembling  fugi- 
tives ? The  absurd  policy  of  the  thing  is  also  pro- 
voking. To  send  back  those  who  want  to  serve  us, 
to  be  employed  by  rebels  to  help  them  in  shooting 
us  ! It  seems  to  me  as  if  the  eyes  of  the  government 
were  holden,  that  they  cannot  see.  Still  pursuing 
the  old  policy  of  years  — willing  to  disregard  the 
dictates  of  justice  and  humanity,  for  the  sake  of  con- 
ciliating the  few  slave-holders  we  have  left  to  be  con- 
ciliated. I have  said  all  along  that  we  needed  defeats 
and  reverses  to  make  us  come  up  manfully  to  the 
work  of  freedom.  . . . Yet  these  last  battles,  with 
all  their  terrible  incidents,  have  made  me  almost 
down  sick.  Night  and  day  I am  thinking  of  those 
poor  soldiers,  stabbed  after  they  were  wounded,  shot 
after  they  dropped  down  from  fatigue.  My  heart 
bleeds  for  the  mothers  of  those  sons.  And  shall  all 
this  awful  havoc  be  made  without  removing  the 
cause  of  the  war  ? without  abolishing  that  detestable 
institution  which  will  always  be  marring  our  pros- 
perity and  troubling  our  peace,  so  long  as  it  is  al- 
lowed to  exist  ? But  my  belief  is  that  order  is  to 


LETTERS. 


155 


be  brought  out  of  this  chaos.  My  faith  is  founded 
upon  the  fact  that  God  has  so  wonderfully  ordered 
events  that  it  is  plainly  for  a purpose.  Only  look 
at  the  sort  of  men  who  are  now  talking  real  fanatical 
abolitionism  ! Men  who,  a few  months  ago,  were  the 
hardest  hunkers,  the  most  pro-slavery  demagogues  ! 
Verily,  “it  is  the  Lord’s  doing,  and  it  is  marvellous 
in  our  eyes.” 


TO  MISS  LUCY  SEARLE. 

Wayland,  August  22,  1861. 

Three  weeks  ago  I set  out  to  come  to  see  you  and 
broke  down  half  way.  It  was  the  hottest  day  we 
have  had  this  summer,  and  I wilted  under  it  so  that 
I had  no  energy  left.  I took  refuge  in  the  anti- 
slavery office,  and  there  remained  in  the  shade  till 
the  hour  arrived  for  returning  home.  It  was  the 
second  day  of  August,  and  many  anti-slavery  friends 
were  returning  from  the  celebration  of  the  first  at 
Abington,  so  that  quite  a levee  was  held  at  the  office 
the  last  hour  I was  there.  I know  of  nothing  that 
stirs  up  my  whole  being  like  meeting  with  old  friends 
by  whose  side  I entered  into  the  great  moral  battle 
thirty  years  ago.  It  seems  to  me  the  early  Chris- 
tians must  have  experienced  similar  emotions  when 
they  met  each  other.  Glorious  old  Paul  ! What  an 
anti-slavery  man  he  would  have  made,  if  his  earthly 
lot  had  been  cast  in  these  times  ! Well,  his  friends 
were  mobbed  and  despised  by  the  world ; but  never- 
theless, Christianity  sat  on  the  throne  of  the  Caesars, 
and  even  the  selfishness  of  men  paid  homage  to  it. 
Our  cause  also  is  going  to  mount  the  throne  of  pop- 
ular favor.  Then  I shall  bid  good-by  to  it,  and  take 
hold  of  something  else  that  is  unpopular.  I never 


156 


LETTERS. 


' work  on  the  winning  side,  because  I know  there  will 
always  be  a plenty  ready  to  do  such  work. 

TO  MISS  HENRIETTA  SARGENT. 

Wayland,  August  24,  1861. 

I should  have  been  cheerful  in  my  solitude,  had  it 
not  been  for  my  irrepressible  anxiety  about  public 
affairs. 

I made,  and  quilted  on  my  lap,  the  prettiest  little 
crib-quilt  you  ever  saw.  The  outside  had  ninety-nine 
little  pink  stars  of  French  calico,  on  a white  ground, 
with  a rose-wreath  trimming  all  round  for  a border  ; 
and  the  lining  was  a very  delicate  rose-colored  French 
brilliant.  It  took  one  month  of  industrious  sewinsf  to 
complete  it.  I sent  it  to  my  dear  friend,  Mrs.  S.,  in 
honor  of  her  first  grand-daughter.  It  was  really  a re- 
lief to  my  mind  to  be  doing  something  for  an  innocent 
little  baby  in  these  dreadful  times.  One  other  recrea- 
tion I have  had  this  summer.  My  loved  and  honored 
friend,  S.  J.  May,  spent  a few  weeks  in  Boston,  and 
wrote  to  me  to  meet  him  at  his  cousin’s,  S.  E.  Sew- 
all’s.  I went  after  dinner,  and  left  after  breakfast 
next  morning.  How  much  we  did  talk  I Sometimes 
laughing  over  old  reminiscences,  sometimes  serious 
even  to  sadness  in  view  of  the  great  struggle  between 
despotism  and  freedom.  None  of  us  had  much  faith 
in  men,  or  in  any  political  party  ; but  we  all  agreed 
that  the  will  of  God  was  manifestly  overruling  the 
will  of  man,  and  making  even  his  wrath  to  praise 
him.  All  thought  that  emancipation  would  be  the 
result  of  the  war ; the  forced  result,  not  the  chosen 
one.  Miss  R.  complained  of  the  exceeding  slowness 
with  which  things  tended  to  that  result.  I told  her 
of  the  consolation  an  old  nurse  gave  to  a mother 


LETTERS.  ■ 


157 


whose  child  was  very  sick.  The  mother  said,  “ The 
medicine  don’t  seem  to  work  as  you  thought  it 
would.”  The  nurse  replied,  “ It  will  work.  Trust 
in  God,  ma’am;  he’s  tedious,  but  he’s  sure.”  We 
did  n’t  any  of  us  realize  in  those  early  days  the  ex- 
tent of  onr  privilege  in  having  engaged  in  a cause 
so  righteous,  with  so  many  earnest,  true-hearted,  all- 
alive  people. 


TO  JOHN  G.  WHITTIER. 

Wayland,  September  10,  1861. 

Dear  Friend  Whittier,  — ...  Nothing  on 
earth  has  such  effect  on  the  popular  heart  as  songs, 
which  the  soldiers  would  take  up  with  enthusiasm, 
and  which  it  would  thereby  become  the  fashion  to 
whistle  and  sing  at  the  street  corners.  “ Old  John 
Brown,  Hallelujah  ! ” is  performing  a wonderful  mis- 
sion now.  Where  the  words  came  from,  nobody 
knows,  and  the  tune  is  an  exciting,  spirit-stirring 
thing,  hitherto  unknown  outside  of  Methodist  con- 
venticles. But  it  warms  up  soldiers  and  boys,  and 
the  air  is  full  of  it ; just  as  France  was  of  the  Mar- 
seillaise, whose  author  was  for  years  unknown. 

If  the  soldiers  only  had  a song,  to  some  spirit-stir- 
ring tune,  proclaiming  what  they  went  to  fight  for,  or 
thought  they  went  to  fight  for,  — for  home,  country 
and  liberty,  and  indignantly  announcing  that  they 
did  not  go  to  hunt  slaves,  to  send  back  to  their  ty- 
rants poor  lacerated  workmen  who  for  years  had  been 
toiling  for  the  rich  without  wages  ; if  they  had  such 
a song  to  a tune  that  excited  them,  how  rapidly  it 
would  educate  them ! . . . Dr.  Furness  wrote  me 
that  a young  friend  of  his  was  a volunteer  in  a wealthy 
aristocratic  company  that  went  from  Philadelphia. 


158 


LETTERS. 


They  returned  much  worked  up  about  slavery.  The 
young  man  told  Dr.  F.  that  he  one  day  met  a rude, 
rough  man,  a corporal,  cr^dng  right  out,  blubbering 
like  a school-boy.  When  asked  what  was  the  matter, 
he  replied,  “They’ve  just  sent  a poor  fellow  back 
into  slavery.  I didn’t  leave  my  home  to  do  such 
work  as  this,  and  I won’t  do  it.  I come  here  to  fight 
for  the  country  and  the  flag,  not  to  hunt  slaves  ; and 
if  the  colonel  orders  any  more  such  work,  I ’m  afraid 
I shall  shoot  him.” 

Another  who  was  ordered  on  picket-duty,  of  course 
at  unusual  risk  of  his  life,  was  told  that  while  he 
was  sentinel,  if  any  slave  attempted  to  pass  the  lines, 
he  must  turn  him  back.  He  replied,  “ That  is  an 
order  I will  not  obey.”  Being  reminded  of  his  duty 
to  obey  orders,  he  replied,  “ I know  the  penalty  I in- 
cur, and  am  ready  to  submit  to  it,  but  I did  not  en- 
list to  do  such  work  and  I will  not  do  it.”  The 
officers,  being  aware  that  his  feeling  would  easily  be- 
come contagious,  modified  the  order  tims  : “ If  any- 
body tries  to  pass,  ascertain  that  all ’s  right  before 
you  allow  them  to  pass.”  That  night  the  moon  shone 
brightly,  and  the  sentinel  on  duty  saw  a moving  in 
the  bushes  before  him.  “Who  goes  there?  An- 
swer quickly  ! ” Up  rose  a tall  ebony  man.  “ Who 
are  you  ? ” “A  fugitive.”  “ Are  you  all  right  ? ” 
“Yes,  massa.”  “Then  run  quick.” 

Another  time,  a lordly  Virginian  rode  up  to  the 
United  States  lines  with  a pass  to  the  other  side. 
He  curled  his  lip  contemptuously  when  a United 
States  sentinel  barred  the  course  of  his  stylish  chariot. 
“ Where ’s  your  pass  ? ” The  Virginian,  scorning  to 
acknowledge  authority  from  a “ greasy  mechanic  ” of 
the  North,  did  not  deign  to  make  any  reply,  but 


LETTERS. 


159 


motioned  to  the  slave  who  was  driving  his  barouche 
to  deliver  the  paper  to  the  soldier.  The  slave  dis- 
mounted and  gave  the  sentinel  the  required  pass. 
The  sentinel  seized  him,  and  by  a quick  motion  set 
him  twirling  down  the  hill,  at  the  bottom  of  which 
were  marshalled  the  United  States  forces.  “ Now 
you  can  turn  back,”  said  the  sentinel.  “But  I ob- 
tained an  order  allowing  me  to  pass.  How  dare  you 
hinder  me  ? ” “ Where  is  your  order  ? ” “ My  ser- 

vant just  gave  it  to  you.”  “ Oh,  that  was  an  order 
to  pass  only  one,  and  he  has  already  gone  with  it.” 

The  Virginian  swore  roundly,  and  called  vocifer- 
ously to  his  slave  to  come  back.  The  bewildered 
slave  attempted  to  do  so,  but  the  mischievous  senti- 
nel put  his  musket  across  the  path.  “ Show  the  pa- 
per!” shouted  the  master.  The  slave  did  so.  The 
sentinel  read  it,  and  coolly  replied,  “ This  is  a pass 
from  Norfolk.  You  must  obtain  another  to  go  to 
Norfolk.”  And  so  the  haughty  Southerner  was 
obliged  to  guide  his  own  horses  back  again  whence 
he  came. 

TO  THE  SAME. 

Watland,  January  21,  1862. 

You  will  make  me  write  to  you,  you  keep  doing  so 
many  things  that  delight  me ! I was  moved  to  write 
you  my  thanks  for  “ The  Two  Watchers ; ” but  I was 
busy  working  for  the  “ contrabands  ” at  Fortress 
Monroe,  and  so  I kept  the  thanks  warm  in  my  heart, 
without  giving  them  an  airing.  But  that  Negro  Boat 
Song  at  Port  Royal ! How  I have  chuckled  over  it 
and  sighed  over  it ! I keep  repeating  it  morning, 
noon,  and  night;  and,  I believe,  with  almost  as  much 
satisfaction  as  the  slaves  themselves  would  do.  It  is 
a complete  embodiment  of  African  humor,  and  ex- 


160 


LETTERS. 


pressed  as  they  would  express  it,  if  they  were  learned 
ill  the  mysteries  of  rhyme  and  rh^dhm.  I have  only 
one  criticism  on  the  negro  dialect.  They  would  not 
say,  “ He  ‘ leab  ’ de  land.”  They  would  say,  He 
“leff  ” de  land.  At  least,  so  speak  all  the  slaves  I 
have  talked  with,  or  whose  talk  I have  seen  reported. 

What  a glorious,  blessed  gift  is  this  gift  of  song, 
with  which  you  are  so  lavishly  endowed  ! Who  can 
calculate  its  influence,  which  you  exert  always  for 
good ! My  David,  who  always  rejoices  over  your 
writings,  was  especially  pleased  with  the  Boat  Song, 
which  he  prophesies  will  be  sung  ere  long  by  thou- 
sands of  darkies.  He  bids  me  say  to  you  that 

“ One  bugle  note  from  Whittier’s  pen 
Is  worth  at  least  ten  thousand  men.” 

So  you  see  that  you  are  at  least  equal  to  a major- 
general  in  the  forces  you  lead  into  the  field,  and  your 
laurels  are  bloodless. 

You  have  of  course  read  “ The  Rejected  Stone,” 
for  it  is  the  most  powerful  utterance  the  crisis  has 
called  forth.  God  sends  us  so  many  great  prophets 
that  it  seems  as  if  he  thought  us  worth  saving  ; but 
latterly  I fear  greatly  that  there  is  not  virtue  enough 
left  in  the  country  to  make  salvation  possible.  Slav- 
ery seems  to  have  poisoned  the  fountains  of  our 
national  life.  I do  not  know  whether  it  is  in  the 
providence  of  God  to  allow  us  to  be  an  example  to 
the  nations,  or  whether  he  intends  to  use  us  as  a 
warning.  If  we  are  saved,  it  wdll  be  better  than  we 
deserve.  I would  sacrifice  everything  in  life,  and  life 
itself,  to  preserve  our  free  institutions  ; but  if  we  must 
have  the  noble  structure  pulled  down  about  our  ears 
by  the  blind  giant  Slavery,  I hope  the  poor  negroes 
will  have  a rollicking  good  time  over  its  ruins. 

^ The  Rejected  Stone;  or,  Insurrection  vs.  Resurrection  in  America. 
By  a Native  of  Virginia.  (M.  D.  Conway.)  Boston,  1861. 


LETTERS. 


161 


You  have  doubtless  heard  of  Harriet  Tubman, 
whom  they  call  Moses,  on  account  of  the  multitude 
she  has  brought  out  of  bondage  by  her  courage  and 
ingenuity.  She  talks  politics  sometimes,  and  her  un- 
couth utterance  is  wiser  than  the  plans  of  politicians. 
She  said  the  other  day : “ Dey  may  send  de  flower  ob 
dair  young  men  down  South,  to  die  ob  de  fever  in  de 
summer,  and  de  agoo  in  de  winter.  (Fur ’t  is  cold 
down  dar,  dough  ’t  is  down  South.)  Dey  may  send 
dem  one  year,  two  year,  tree  year,  till  dey  tired  ob 
sendin’,  or  till  dey  use  up  all  de  young  men.  All  no 
use  ! God ’s  ahead  ob  Massa  Linkum.  God  won’t 
let  Massa  Linkum  beat  de  South  till  he  do  de  right 
ting.  Massa  Linkum  he  great  man,  and  I’se  poor 
nigger ; but  dis  nigger  can  tell  Massa  Linkum  how 
to  save  de  money  and  de  young  men.  He  do  it  by 
setting  de  niggers  free.  S’pose  dar  was  awfu’  big 
snake  down  dar,  on  de  floor.  He  bite  you.  Folks 
all  skeered,  cause  you  die.  You  send  for  doctor  to 
cut  de  bite ; but  snake  he  rolled  up  dar,  and  while 
doctor  dwine  it,  he  bite  you  agin.  De  doctor  cut 
out  dat  bite  ; but  while  he  dwine  it,  de  snake  he 
spring  up  and  bite  you  agin,  and  so  he  keep  dwine, 
till  you  kill  him.  Dat ’s  what  Massa  Linkum  orter 
know.”  . . . 

This  winter  I have  for  the  first  time  been  knitting 
for  the  army ; but  I do  it  only  for  Kansas  troops.  I 
can  trust  them,  for  they  have'vowed  a vow  unto  the 
Lord  that  no  fugitive  shall  ever  be  surrendered  in 
their  camps.  There  is  a nephew  of  Kossuth  in  Col- 
onel Montgomery’s  regiment.  A few  weeks  ago 
when  he  was  on  scout  duty  a mulatto  woman  im- 
plored him  to  take  her  to  the  Yankee  camp  where 
her  husband  was.  The  mistress  rushed  out  in  hot 
11 


162 


LETTERS. 


pursuit.  The  young  Hungarian  reined  in  his  horse, 
and  called  to  the  slave,  “Jump  up,  and  hold  on  by 
me  1 ” She  sprang  on  the  horse,  and  they  galloped 
away,  under  a shower  of  wrathful  words  from  the  mis- 
tress. When  they  rode  into  the  Kansas  camp,  all  the 
soldiers  threw  up  their  caps  and  hurrahed,  and  Col- 
onel Montgomery  called  out,  “ Three  cheers  for  the 
Union  I ” The  young  Hungarian,  Cassimir,  is  a sort 
of  adopted  son  of  one  of  my  relatives,  to  whom  he 
wrote  the  story. 

It  is  well  that  war  has  some  pleasant  pictures. 

TO  MISS  LUCY  OSGOOD. 

Wayland,  1862. 

I thank  you  heartily  for  thinking  of  me  at  New 
Year’s  time.  The  echo  of  “hand  clapping,”  which 
you  heard  when  news  came  of  the  capture  of  Port 
Koyal,  was  not  from  me.  I have  had  but  one  ap- 
proach to  a pleasurable  sensation  connected  with  pub- 
lic affairs  since  this  war  began,  and  that  was  when 
I read  Fremont’s  proclamation.  He  acknowledged 
the  slaves  as  “men.”  Nobody  else,  except  the  old 
Garrisonian  abolitionists,  seems  to  have  the  faintest 
idea  that  they  have  any  rights  which  we  are  bound 
to  recognize.  They  are  to  be  freed  or  not,  according 
to  our  necessities  or  convenience,  and  then  we  are  to 
do  what  we  please  with  them,  without  consulting  their 
•interest  or  convenience.  It  is  the  same  hateful  pro- 
slavery spirit  everywhere.  I felt  very  little  interest 
in  the  capture  of  Mason  and  Slidell.  It  did  not  seem 
to  me  of  much  consequence,  especially  as  their  dis- 
patches were  carried  to  Europe.  Living  up  here 
in  Wayland,  at  a distance  from  cities  and  railroads, 
is  very  conducive  to  quietude  of  mind,  which  is  in 


LETTERS. 


163 


fact  in  some  danger  of  approaching  to  drowsiness. 
The  prospect  of  a war  with  England,  siiperadded  to 
onr  present  troubles,  made  me  almost  down  sick. 
The  pacific  policy  of  our  government  was  an  im- 
mense relief  to  my  mind.  I did  not  see  any  call  for 
“ astuteness  ” about  it.  It  was  simply  a question 
whether  we  had  infringed  upon  the  law  of  nations; 
and  since  the  lawyers  and  statesmen  all  round  agreed 
that  we  had  violated  it,  at  least  in  form,  I think  it 
was  as  manly  in  the  nation  to  acknowledge  the  mis- 
take as  it  would  have  been  in  an  individual.  It 
would  have  been  something  worse  than  absurd  to  go 
to  blowing  out  each  other’s  brains  about  a mere  legal 
technicality.  I think  Charles  Sumner  takes  the  true 
ground.  How  calm  and  strong  he  is  ! I know  of  no 
one  who  so  well  deserves  the  title  of  Serene  High- 
ness. 

I have  written  a letter  to  the  “ Anti-Slavery  Stand- 
ard ; ” but  it  is  so  long  that  I doubt  whether  they 
will  get  it  into  the  next  paper.  You  will  think  that 
I “ roar  like  any  sucking  dove.”  I tried  to  do  so,  for 
it  did  not  seem  to  me  right  to  do  anything  to  increase 
the  inflammable  state  of  things.  Conscience  is  apt 
to  plague  me  about  acting  out  my  total  depravity. 
I thought  of  several  sarcasms  which  some  readers 
might  have  thought  smart,  but  I suppressed  them. 

Ah,  how  often  I have  had  your  thought : “ Would 
that  increasing  nearness  to  the  spiritual  world  abated 
one  jot  of  its  mystery.”  To  me  the  mystery  thickens 
the  more  I contemplate  it.  Brother  Convers,  writing 
to  me  of  the  death  of  his  wife,  says  : “ Mysterious 
ocean  of  Silence  ! whence  not  a sound  reaches  the  ear 
of  one  who  walks  on  its  shores  and  listens  with  an  ag- 
ony of  desire.  Yet  I often  say  to  myself,  what  mat- 


164 


LETTERS. 


ters  this,  if  the  soul  can  only  keep  its  balance  of  re- 
pose and  trust  ? Questions  and  doubts  are  mostly  the 
devil’s  work.  While  we  are  with  God,  we  know  lit- 
tle or  nothing  of  them.  True  it  is, 

‘ The  Sphinx  sits  at  the  gate  of  life, 

With  the  old  question  on  her  awful  lips  ; ’ 

but  she  cannot  now  devour  us,  if  we  do  not  solve  the 
question.  The  heart  has  its  answer ; an  answer 
which  God  has  placed  there ; and  blessed  are  those 
who  rest  content  with  that.  I know  of  no  other  faith 
than  this  of  the  heart  that  is  worth  much.  1 love 
the  simple  beauty  of  old  Richard  Baxter’s  expression  : 
‘ The  jingling  of  too  much  philosophy  often  drowns 
the  music  of  Aaron’s  bells.’  ” I sympathize  with 
these  expressions  of  my  brother’s  feelings. 

TO  MRS.  S.  B.  SHAW. 

Wayland,  1862. 

I had  planned  writing  to  you  a few  days  hence  ; 
deferring  it  for  the  important  reason  that  I could 
then  write  on  my  birthday,  and  inform  you  that  I 
was  sixty  years  old.  But  there  comes  along  a pack- 
age from  you  and  Mrs.  , followed  by  your  let- 

ter, and  I am  so  charmed  with  “ John  Brent”  that  I 
must  write  “ right  away,”  as  the  children  say.  How 
all-alive  the  book  is  ! Glowing  and  effervescing,  like 
champagne  poured  out  in  the  sunshine ! I had 
formed  the  idea  that  Mr.  Winthrop  was  an  uncom- 
mon man  ; but  I had  no  idea  he  was  so  overflowing 
with  genius.  Alas,  that  such  a rich  and  noble  life 
should  have  been  cut  off  in  its  full  vigor  by  the  ruth- 
less hand  of  slavery  ! I took  a great  interest  in  him 
because  he  was  a dear  friend  of  yours ; but  since  a 
portion  of  his  vivacious  and  beautiful  mind  has  been 


LETTERS. 


165 


transmitted  to  me  through  the  pages  of  his  book,  I 
feel  as  if  he  were  my  friend,  — as  if  I had  known 
and  loved  him.  When  I was  in  Boston,  last  week,  I 
stopped  and  looked  at  the  advertisement  of  “ John 
Brent  ” in  the  windows  of  Ticknor  & Fields.  I 
wanted  it  very  much,  and  was  on  the  point  of  step- 
ping in  and  buying  it.  But 'I  thought  of  the  “con- 
trabands,” and  of  other  claims  upon  me,  still  nearer, 
so  far  as  natural  relationship  goes,  and  I said  to  my- 
self, “ No  unnecessary  expense  till  the  war  is  over.” 
I walked  away  very  well  satisfied  with  my  decision  ; 
but  I was  amazing  glad  to  have  the  book,  and  I 
thank  Mrs.  C a thousand  times.  It  is  very  curi- 

ous how  often  it  happens  so.  My  wants  are  few,  but 
when  I do  want  anything  very  much  it  is  very  apt  to 
come  to  me,  from  some  source,  without  my  express- 
ing the  wish  to  any  one.  I Avonder  whether  there  is 
any  spiritual  magnetism  in  it? 

TO  FRANCIS  G.  SHAW. 

Wayland,  1862. 

I inclose  twenty  dollars,  which  I wish  you  would 
use  for  the  “ contrabands  ” in  any  way  you  think  best. 
I did  think  of  purchasing  shoes,  of  which  I understand 
they  are  much  in  need,  but  I concluded  it  was  best 
to  send  to  you  to  appropriate  it  as  you  choose.  In 
November  I expended  eighteen  dollars  for  clothing, 
mostly  for  women  and  children,  and  picked  up  all 
the  garments,  blankets,  etc.,  that  I could  spare.  I 
sent  them  to  Fortress  Monroe.  Last  week  I gave 
A.  L.  twenty  dollars  toward  a great  box  she  is  filling 
for  Port  Royal.  My  interest  in  the  “ contrabands,” 
everywhere,  is  exceedingly  great ; and  at  this  crisis  I 
feel  that  every  one  ought  to  be  willing  to  do  their 


166 


LETTERS. 


utmost.  I still  have  forty  dollars  left  of  a fund  I 
have  set  apart  for  the  “ contrabands.”  I keep  it  for 
future  contingencies ; but  if  you  think  it  is  more 
needed  now,  say  the  word  and  you  shall  have  it. 

TO  MISS  LUCY  SEARLE. 

Wayland,  1862. 

So  you  dispute  Gerrit  Smith’s  testimony  about  my 
being  “ wise  and  candid  ” ? I cannot  say  I have 
much  respect  for  my  wisdom.  I think  less  and  less 
of  it  every  year  I live.  But  when  I write  for  the 
public,  I think  I am  generally  candid.  I do  not  pro- 
fess to  be  so  in  my  talk,  because  that  bubbles  up,  and 
I do  not  take  time  to  examine  its  spirit.  We  all  pre- 
sent different  phases  of  character,  according  to  cir- 
cumstances, and  I think  I do  so  more  than  most 
people.  It  is  natural  enough  that  Gerrit  Smith 
should  deem  me  “ wise.”  When  I approach  him,  I 
don’t  go  dancing  on  a slack  rope,  decorated  with 
spangles  and  Psyche-wings  ; I walk  on  solid  ground, 
as  demurely  as  if  I were  going  to  meeting,  with 
psalm  book  in  hand.  If  I happen  to  catch  a glimpse 
of  a fairy  by  the  way,  she  and  I wink  at  each  other, 
but  I never  “let  on.”  He  supposes  the  chosen 
teachers  of  my  mind  to  be  profound  statesmen  and 
pious  Christian  Fathers.  I never  introduce  to  him 
any  of  my  acquaintances  of  light  character.  I have 
a consciousness  that  fairies  are  not  the  most  respect- 
able company  for  a woman  of  my  venerable  years 
(I  shall  be  sixty  to-morrow),  and  it  is  only  to  a few 
that  I manifest  my  predilection  for  such  volatile  vis- 
itors. Dear  Sarah  Shaw  likes  to  see  fanciful  danc- 
ing on  moon-beams,  and  when  I write  to  her  I some- 
times caracole  in  a fashion  that  would  make  good, 


LETTERS.  167 

sensible  Gerrit  Smith  wonder  what  had  become  of 
the  “ wisdom  ” of  his  sage  friend.  . . . 

I suppose  George’s  indignation  against  England  is 
not  abated  by  her  recent  manifestations.  I thought 
perhaps  you  would  read  Harriet  Martin eau’s  letter  in 
the  “Standard  ” aloud  for  his  especial  edification,  and 
I amused  m^^self  with  imagining  its  effect.  I didn’t 
know  but  it  would  make  each  particular  hair  on  his 
head  stand  up  on  end,  charged  brimful  with  the 
electricity  of  righteous  wrath. 

TO  THE  SAME. 

1862. 

Since  I saw  you,  I have  often  thought  of  the  fear 
you  seem  to  have  of  Spiritualism.  You  appear  to 
regard  it  as  something  uncanny.  I cannot  feel  so 
about  it.  I don’t  believe  there  is  any  miracle  or  any 
deviltry  about  it.  I simply  believe  that  the  union  of 
our  spiritual  nature  with  our  material  is  governed  by 
laws  which  we  do  not  understand,  and  which  lie  be- 
yond the  region  of  any  tests  we  are  as  yet  able  to 
apply.  I don’t  think  the  devil  has  anything  to  do 
with  Spiritualism,  any  more  than  he  has  with  comets. 
I rather  think  I don’t  believe  in  the  devil.  I cer- 
tainly never  think  of  him  in  connection  with  any 
mysteries  that  interest  me.  . . . Now  there  is  elec- 
tricity ! That  is  an  everlasting  puzzle  to  me.  I am 
always  asking  questions  about  it,  and  never  get  any 
of  them  answered.  I have  a vague  idea  that  it  is 
“ the  spiritual  body  ” of  the  universe.  I have  a great 
many  questions  laid  up  to  ask  Plato  when  I see  him. 
He  has  been  at  the  high  school  so  long,  he  must 
know  a great  deal.  . . . My  soul  goes  about  “ pervad- 
ing ” all  departments  of  the  universe,  “wanting  to 


168 


LETTERS. 


know ; ” and  tlie  only  answer  I get  is,  “ Go  about 
your  business.”  So  I go  about  it.  I have  just  done 
fifteen  pair  of  mittens  and  three  pair  of  socks  for  the 
Kansas  troops.  I can  trust  them  never  to  surren- 
der a fugitive  slave ; so  I work  for  them  with  a will. 
Conway  of  Kansas  has  made  a magnificent  speech 
'in  Congress.  It  seems  to  me  one  of  the  greatest 
speeches  I ever  read.  I rejoiced  also  in  Boutwell’s 
speech  before  the  Emancipation  League.  It  was 
ably  argued,  well  arranged,  excellent  in  its  spirit, 
judicious  and  practical  in  its  suggestions. 

TO  MISS  HENRIETTA  SARGENT. 

Watland,  1862. 

The  broad  meadow  lies  very  beautiful  before  me  ; 
for  the  frequent  rains  have  kept  it  fresh  and  green. 
The  sky  is  a beautiful  clear  blue,  with  a light,  float- 
ing tracery  of  silvery  clouds.  All  looks  so  serene 
and  smiling  that  it  is  difficult  to  realize  the  scenes 
of  violence  and  destruction  going  on  in  other  parts 
of  the  country.  A little  striped  squirrel  that  has  for 
weeks  come  to  the  stone  wall  near  my  back  window, 
to  eat  the  breakfast  I daily  placed  for  him  there,  has 
disappeared  for  several  days,  and  the  fear  that  some 
evil  beast  has  devoured  him  makes  me  sad.  When 
so  many  mothers  are  mourning  for  their  sons,  not 
knowing  where  or  how  they  died,  I am  ashamed  to 
say  that  I have  cried  a little  for  the  loss  of  my  squir- 
rel. I had  learned  to  love  the  pretty  little  creature. 
He  came  so  confidingly  and  sat  up  so  prettily,  nib- 
bling a kernel  of  corn  in  his  paws.  I learned  many 
of  the  little  ways  of  squirrels,  which  I had  never 
known  before.  He  would  scratch  his  ears  and  wash 
his  face  like  a kitten,  and  even  fold  his  paws  under 


LETTERS. 


169 


him  and  go  to  sleep,  within  reach  of  my  arm.  All 
innocent  and  peaceful  things  seem  peculiarly  attract- 
ive in  these  times  of  bloodshed  and  hatred,  and  I 
cannot  help  mourning  some  for  my  little  squirrel. 

TO  MISS  LUCY  OSGOOD. 

Wayland,  December,  1862. 

Your  letter  did  me  an  ‘‘unco  deal  o’ gude,”  as 
your  letters  always  do.  I agree  with  you  entirely 
about  the  “ buss  fuss  ” of  metaphysics.  It  has  al- 
ways been  my  aversion.  More  than  thirty  years  ago, 
when  Mrs.  R.  was  intimate  at  my  brother’s,  I used 
to  hear  her  discuss  Kant’s  philosophy  with  collegian 
visitors,  until  I went  to  bed  without  knowing  whether 
or  not  I had  “ hung  myself  over  the  chair  and  put 
my  clothes  into  bed.”  I met  Mrs.  R.  in  the  cars 
several  days  ago,  after  an  interval  of  twenty  years, 
and  what  do  you  think  ? In  ten  minutes  she  had 
plunged  into  the  depths  of  Kant’s  philosophy,  and 
was  trying  to  pull  me  after  her.  But  I resisted 
stoutly.  I do  sometimes  like  a bank  of  fog  to  look 
at,  if  there  are  plenty  of  rainbows  on  it  ; but  I have 
no  fancy  for  sailing  through  it.  Circumstances  after- 
ward made  me  acquainted  with  the  transcendental- 
lists,  and  I attended  some  of  their  meetings,  where  I 
saw  plenty  of  fog  with  rainbows  flitting  over  it.  I 
remember  once  after  a long  silence,  when  everybody 
was  looking  in  the 'fire  expecting  something  great  to 

come  by  and  by,  Mr. turned  toward  us,  with 

that  serene  glance  of  his,  and  said  slowly  : “ Why  do 
we  rummage  about  with  memory  in  the  Past,  to  as- 
certain our  whereabouts  and  our  whatabouts  ? ” He 
paused  for  a reply,  and  receiving  none,  he  continued : 
“ Why  do  we  rummage  about  in  the  Past  to  ascertain 
it  ? I am  it ; and  it  is  I ; is  it  not  ? ” 


170 


LETTERS. 


TO  MISS  LUCY  SEARLE. 

Watland,  December  21,  1862. 

We  live  almost  like  dormice  in  the  winter.  Very- 
few  people  are  so  completely  isolated.  But  I warm 
up  my  little  den  with  bright  little  pictures,  and  rain- 
bow glories  from  prisms  suspended  in  the  windows. 
I am  amused  twenty  times  a day  with  their  fantastic 
variations.  Sometimes  the  portrait  of  Charles  Sum- 
ner is  transfigured  by  the  splendid  light,  and  some- 
times the  ears  of  my  little  white  kitten,  in  the  picture 
opposite,  are  all  aglow.  The  moss  on  a stick  of  wood 
in  the  corner  suddenly  becomes  iridescent,  and  then 
the  ashes  on  the  hearth  look  like  the  glittering  soil 
where  the  metallic  gnomes  live.  I am  childish  enough 
to  find  pleasure  in  all  this,  and  to  talk  aloud  to  the 
picture  of  a baby  that  is  being  washed.  But  you 
must  not  infer  from  this  that  I live  for  amusement. 
On  the  contrary,  I work  like  a beaver  the  whole  time. 
Just  now  I am  making  a hood  for  a poor  neighbor; 
last  week  I was  making  flannels  for  the  hospitals  ; 
odd  minutes  are  filled  up  with  ravelling  lint ; every 
string  that  I can  get  sight  of,  I pull  for  my  poor  op- 
pressed brother  Sambo.  I write  to  the  “ Tribune  ” 
about  him ; I write  to  the  “ Transcript  ” about 
him  ; I write  to  private  individuals  about  him  ; and 
I write  to  the  President  and  Members  of  Congress 
about  him  ; I write  to  Western  Virginia  and  Mis- 
souri about  him,  and  I get  the  articles  published  too. 
That  shows  what  progress  the  cause  of  freedom  is 
making.  You  see  even  the  grave  Historical  Society 
of  Massachusetts  comes  up  to  the  work,  in  Mr.  Liv- 
ermore’s valuable  pamphlet  entitled  “ Historical  Re- 
searches.” The  manner  in  which  poor  Sambo’s  cause 


LETTERS. 


171 


gets  argued  and  listened  to  in  all  quarters  now  is  the 
most  encouraging  feature  of  the  times.  I try  to  for- 
get Bull  Runs  and  Fredericksburg  retreats,  and  think 
only  of  the  increasing  rapidity  of  moral  progress. 
Human  hands  blunder  shockingly  ; but  the  Divine 
Hand  is  overruling  all  in  infinite  wisdom. 

TO  MRS.  S.  B.  SHAW. 

1863. 

As  for  the  President’s  proclamation,  I was  thank- 
ful for  it,  but  it  excited  no  enthusiasm  in  my  mind. 
With  my  gratitude  to  God  was  mixed  an  under-tone 
of  sadness  that  the  moral  sense  of  the  people  was  so 
low  that  the  thing  could  not  be  done  nobly.  How- 
ever we  may  inflate  the  emancipation  balloon,  it  will 
never  ascend  among  the  constellations.  The  ugly 
fact  cannot  be  concealed  that  it  was  done  reluctantly 
and  stintedly,  and  that  even  the  degree  that  was  ac- 
complished was  done  selfishly ; was  merely  a war 
measure,  to  which  we  were  forced  by  our  own  perils 
and  necessities ; and  that  no  recognition  of  principles 
of  justice  or  humanity  surrounded  the  politic  act  with 
a halo  of  moral  glory.  This  war  has  furnished  many 
instances  of  individual  nobility,  but  our  national  rec- 
ord is  mean. 

But  notwithstanding  these  misgivings,  I am  truly 
thankful  for  the  proclamation.  It  is  doing  us  a great 
good  in  Europe,  and  will  be  a powerful  agent  in  help- 
ing on  the  change  of  feeling  in  England.  I have  al- 
ways put  a good  deal  of  trust  in  the  common  people 
of  England. 

Speaking  of  individual  nobility,  how  beautifully 
and  bravely  young  Russell  behaved  when  Savage  was 
wounded  ! I murmured  that  he  was  a prisoner  when 


172 


LETTERS. 


his  parents  had  been  such  consistent  and  generous 
friends  of  freedom  ; but  after  all,  they  have  their  re- 
, ward  in  having  a son  to  whom  opportunities  for  moral 
greatness  came  not  in  vain.  Your  Robert,  too,  — 
people  say  the  war  has  ripened  in  him  all  manly  qual- 
ities. God  bless  and  protect  the  two  young  heroes  ! 
They  told  me  in  Boston  that  they  had  both  offered 
to  lead  colored  soldiers.  Is  it  so  ? 

I thank  you  very  much  for  the  lovely  photograph 

of  S . What  a pity  it  is  that  the  ancients  were 

ignorant  of  this  wonderful  process  ! How  I should 
like  a photograph  of  Plato ! and  how  I should  like  to 
have  a representation  of  the  Venus  of  Milo  unmuti- 
lated. Nothing  within  my  limited  knowledge  of  an- 
cient art  affects  me  like  that  miraculous  statue.  Is  it 
a Venus?  Always  it  seems  to  me  like  the  heroic  An- 
tigone proclaiming  to  the  tyrant  Creon  that  there  is 
a “ higher  law  ” than  that  of  kings.  The  physical 
beauty  of  the  woman  is  wonderfully  inspired  with 
moral  majesty. 

TO  THE  SAME. 

WatlaND,  1863. 

I have  been  travelling  through  dark  and  thorny 
places,  dear,  where  there  were  no  roses  of  thought  to 
send  to  you ; and  ever  overhead  has  been  the  great 
murky  cloud  of  public  affairs  that  will  not  scatter 
and  let  the  sunshine  through. 

I am  glad,  dear,  that  new  bright  links  are  being 
continually  added  to  your  life.  To  me  there  come 
no  changes  but  sad  ones  ; no  new  links  — only  the 
continually  dropping  away,  one  after  another,  of  the 
old  ones.  The  decease  of  my  brother  adds  greatly 
to  my  loneliness.  In  my  isolated  position,  he  was 


LETTERS. 


173 


almost  my  only  medium  with  the  world  of  intellect. 
How  much  my  mind  has  owed  to  him  can  never  be 
described.  I loved  him,  too,  and  this  separation,  so 
utterly  unexpected,  rouses  up  a thousand  memories 
of  childhood  and  youth.  During  the  last  month  of 
his  life  I was  going  backward  and  forward  often  to 
see  him.  I was  with  him  the  last  eight  days,  and 
with  him  when  his  soul  departed  on  its  mysterious 
journey  to  the  unknown.  Oh,  how  I suffered ! It 
tore  me  all  to  pieces.  And  now,  in  the  spring-time, 
I cannot  make  the  renovation  of  nature  seem  cheer- 
ful. But  why  should  I cast  my  shadow  over  you  ? I 
told  you  of  my  sad  experiences  mainly  to  account  for 
my  neglected  correspondence. 

I am  rejoiced  that  Robert  is  so  well  pleased  with 
his  regiment.  The  Lord  seems  to  have  inspired  the 
colored  people  to  behave  remarkably  well  all  through 
this  terrible  conflict.  When  I was  in  Boston,  last 
week,  I said  to  Edmund  Quincy  that  never  in  the 
course  of  my  observation,  or  in  my  reading  of  human 
history,  had  I seen  the  hand  of  Providence  so  signally 
manifested  as  in  the  events  of  this  war.  He  replied 
in  a very  characteristic  way:  “Well,  Mrs.  Child, 
when  the  job  is  done  up,  I hope  it  will  prove  credit- 
able to  Providence.”  My  own  belief  is  that  it  will. 
Think  of  Victor  Hugo’s  writing  a tragedy  with  John 
Brown  for  its  hero  ! A French  John  Brown  ! It  is 
too  funny.  I wonder  what  the  old  captain  himself 
would  think  of  it  if  he  were  present  in  Paris  at  its 
representation.  I fancy  he  would  be  as  much  sur- 
prised at  the  portraiture  as  would  the  honest  wife  of 
Joseph  the  carpenter,  with  her  troop  of  dark-eyed 
girls  and  boys,  Joses  and  James  and  Jude,  etc.,  if 
she  were  told  that  the  image  of'  the  “ immaculate 


174 


LETTERS. 


Virgin  ” Mary,  witli  spangled  robe  and  tinselled 
crown,  was  a likeness  of  her. 

TO  MISS  LUCY  OSGOOD. 

Watland,  1863. 

I am  glad  your  Philadelphia  campaign  proved  so 
glorious.  I hope  you  will  enjoy  many  such.  After 
all,  I think  the  careful  housewife  was  the  largest  ele- 
ment in  your  good  time  at  Philadelphia.  The  older 
I grow  the  more  I respect  the  “ careful  Marthas.” 
I would  rather  have  one  for  a household  companion 
than  ten  devout  and  contemplative  Marys.  They 
did  very  well  in  the  days  when  saints  went  barefoot 
and  wore  a perennial  suit  of  hair-cloth : but  the  Mar- 
thas are  decidedly  preferable  in  these  days  of  nicely- 
ironed  linen,  daily  renewed,  and  stockings  so  flimsy 
that  they  need  continual  looking  after.  Devout, 
poetic  saints  must  have  careful  Marthas  to  provide 
for  them  if  they  would  be  comfortable  themselves,  or 
be  able  to  promote  the  happiness  of  others.  Mr. 

S says  his  wife  is  a careful  Martha.  I wonder 

what  would  have  become  of  him  and  the  boys  if  she 
had  been  of  the  Mary  pattern.  All  hail  to  the  care- 
ful Marthas  ! say  I.  If  I had  one  I would  kiss  her 
very  shoe-ties. 

TO  MISS  ELIZA  SCUDDER. 

Wayland,  1863, 

Was  n’t  I as  proud  as  a peacock,  and  did  n’t  it 
make  me  spread  all  my  feathers,  to  have  a “ pair  o’ 
vairses  ” written  to  me  in  my  old  age  ? and  such 
verses,  too  ! Seriously,  dear  friend,  I was  never  so 
touched  and  so  pleased  by  any  tribute  in  my  life.  I 
cried  over  the  verses,  and  I smiled  over  them.  I 


LETTERS. 


175 


wanted  to  show  them  to  everybody ; but  I did  n’t 
dare  to  show  them  to  anybody  — they  were  so  com- 
plimentary. I knew  I did  n’t  deserve  them ; but  I 
also  knew  that  you  thought  I did,  and  that  made  me 
happy. 

TO  L.  M.  CHILD. 

They  cannot  know,  who  only  know 
Thy  wise  sweet  written  word, 

Whose  willing  ears  thy  genial  flow 
Of  speech  have  never  heard. 

Who  have  not  in  thy  soul’s  true  face 
Traced  each  familiar  line, — 

The  spirit’s  all  informing  grace 
That  moulds  a life  like  thine. 

But  I,  beloved,  who  have  read. 

As  one  God’s  book  who  reads, 

The  power  by  purest  purpose  shed 
O’er  homeliest  ways  and  deeds  ; 

Who  know  thy  love’s  most  royal  power, 

With  largesse  free  and  brave. 

Which  crowns  thee  helper  of  the  poor. 

The  suffering  and  the  slave  ; 

Yet  springs  as  freely  and  as  warm 
To  greet  the  near  and  small. 

The  prosy  neighbor  at  the  farm. 

The  squirrel  on  the  wall ; 

Which  strengthens  thee  in  hope  to  bear 
And  toil  and  strive  alone. 

And  lift  another’s  load  of  care. 

While  wearied  ’neath  thine  own  ; 


176 


LETTERS. 


So  apt  to  know,  so  wise  to  guide, 

So  tender  to  redress,  — 

O friend,  with  whom  such  charms  abide. 

How  can  I love  thee  less  ? 

E.  S. 

TO  MRS.  S.  B.  SHAW. 

Wayland,  July,  1863. 

Oil,  darling ! darling  ! if  the  newspaper  rumor  be 
true,^  what  I have  so  long  dreaded  has  come  upon 
you.  But  rumor  very  often  exaggerates  and  some- 
times invents ; so  I still  hope,  though  with  a heart 
that  bleeds  for  you.  If  the  report  be  true,  may  our 
Heavenly  Father  sustain  you  under  this  heavy  sor- 
row. Severe  as  the  blow  must  be,  it  is  not  altogether 
without  consolatioli.  If  your  beautiful  and  brave  boy 
has  died,  he  died  nobly  in  the  defence  of  great  prin- 
ciples, and  he  has  gone  to  join  the  glorious  army  of 
martyrs ; and  how  much  more  sacred  and  dear  to 
memory  is  such  a life  and  such  a death,  than  a life 
spent  in  self-indulgence,  gradually  impairing  the 
health  and  weakening  the  mental  powers.  Your 
darling  Robert  made  the  most  of  the  powers  and  ad- 
vantages God  had  given  him  by  consecrating  them  to 
the  defence  of  freedom  and  humanity.  Such  a son 
in  the  spirit-world  is  worth  ten  living  here  for  them- 
selves alone.  Besides,  dear,  the  separation  is  only  for 
a little  while.  You  parted  from  him  a young  man, 
but  rendered  thoughtful  and  anxious  beyond  his  years 
by  reason  of  the  heavy  responsibilities  that  devolved 
upon  him.  You  will  meet  him  a serene  angel,  en- 
dowed with  larger  vision  and  better  understanding 
why  it  is  that  we  are  doomed  to  suffer  here.  Ah, 
darling,  my  words  fall  coldly  upon  your  bereaved 
1 Report  of  tlie  death  of  Colonel  Robert  G.  Shaw. 


LETTERS. 


177 


heart.  God  comfort  you ! He  alone  can  carry  you 
through  this  dark  passage.  He  has  given  you  beau- 
tiful little  grandchildren  to  love,  and  I trust  their 
soft  arms  will  help  to  bear  you  up.  Most  sincerely 
do  I wish  that  my  old  life  could  have  been  sacrificed 
to  save  your  brave  and  beautiful  boy.  But  the  Heav- 
enly Father  ordereth  all  things  in  wisdom  and  in 
mercy,  too ; as  we  should  acknowledge  if  we  could 
only  see  the  end  from  the  beginning. 

In  your  last  but  one  you  wrote  as  if  I might  think 
you  did  not  pity  me  enough.  I was  going  to  answer 
that  you  pitied  me  more  than  enough;  more  than  I 
pity  myself.  I was  going  to  ask  you  what  was  my 
misfortune  ^ compared  with  that  of  the  poor  wretches 
driven  from  their  homes  by  murderous  mobs ; or  what 
was  it  compared  with  the  anxiety  of  a mother  whose 
only  son  was  leading  a colored  regiment  into  South 
Carolina.  But  now  in  view  of  this  terrible  rumor, 
how  utterly  insignificant  and  contemptible  seem  all 
my  troubles  ! I thank  Mrs.  Gay  very  much  for  her 
hearty  sympathy ; but  tell  her  that  at  a crisis  like 
this  it  is  merely  as  if  a mosquito  had  stung  me. 

Ought  I not  to  be  taking  care  of  the  sick  and 
wounded  soldiers  ? Sometimes  that  thought  worries 
me.  Yours  with  a heart  brimful  of  love  and  sym- 
pathy. 

TO  FRANCIS  G.  SHAW. 

July,  1863. 

Words  are  inadequate  to  express  what  I feel  for 
you.  The  same  faith  that  made  you  willing  to  sac- 
rifice your  only  son  in  defence  of  righteous  principles 
will  help  to  sustain  you  under  this  sorrowful  bereave- 
ment. But  oh,  how  hard  it  would  be  for  our  poor 

1 A fire  had  burned  a part  of  her  house. 

12 


178 


LETTERS. 


human  hearts,  were  it  not  for  the  hope  of  reunion  in 
that  other  world,  where  all  the  shocking  discords  are 
resolved  into  harmony  ! 

Dear  friend,  I herewith  return  you  the  remaining 
check  for  two  hundred  dollars.  Since  those  horrible 
New  York  mobs,  I cannot  keep  it  with  an  easy  con- 
science. Do  not  understand  me  as  returning  it  to 
you,  but  to  your  fund  for  the  relief  of  poor  wretches 
whose  need  is  so  much  greater  than  mine.  Besides 
this  feeling,  there  are  other  personal  considerations 
which,  in  part,  induce  me  to  return  your  bounty.  I 
have  met  with  two  unexpected  lucky  incidents.  I 
liave  also  just  recovered  fifty  dollars  which  I sup- 
posed was  lost  by  the  failure  of  my  bookseller.  I 
also  hope  to  make  three  or  four  hundred  dollars  by 
my  forthcoming  book  for  old  people. 

Under  these  circumstances,  I think  you  will  see 
that  I ought  not  to  receive  help  when  there  are  so 
many  sufferers  in  the  land  who  need  it  more  than  I 
do.  You  will  see  that  it  is  not  pride,  dearest  friend, 
but  conscience.  Never,  never  shall  I forget  your 
kindness  in  sending  it.  It  did  me  a world  of  good, 
when  I felt  so  stunned  and  desolate.  But  I am  get- 
ting bravely  over  all  that  now.  I reproach  myself  for 
having  cared  so  much  about  a home,  when  so  many 
homes  are  ruthlessly  broken  up.  The  debris  of  a 
fire  is  bad,  but  what  is  it  compared  with  the  desola- 
tion wrought  by  a mob  ? I am  most  sincerely  sorry 
for  James  Gibbons  and  his  family.^  Miss  Osgood  told 
me  they  had  one  room  consecrated  to  interesting 
souvenirs  of  their  lost  Willie.  How  dreadful  it  must 
have  been  to  have  that  pillaged  by  a mob ! 

1 Mr,  Gibbons’s  house  in  New  York  city  was  gutted  by  the  mob 
during  the  draft  riots  of  July,  1863. 


LETTERS. 


179 


MISS  LUCY  OSGOOD. 

Wayland,  1864. 

I joyfully  hailed  the  sight  of  your  hand-writing; 
more  joyfully  even  than  usual ; because  I conjectured 
that  you  would  write  about  the  biography  of  Theo- 
dore Parker.  It  is  an  inspiring  book,  making  one 
feel  that  there  is  nobleness  in  the  battle  of  life  when 
a true  man  girds  on  his  armor  for  the  fight.  This 
record  confirms  my  impression  that  Theodore  Parker 
was  the  greatest  man,  morally  and  intellectually, 
that  our  country  has  ever  produced.  The  manner  in 
which  the  book  is  made  up  is,  I think,  open  to  some 
criticism.  In  the  first  place,  there  is  the  general 
fault  of  containing  too  much.  It  seems  to  me  that 
if  one  half,  or  at  least  one  third,  had  been  omitted, 
the'  remaining  portion  would  have  been  more  un- 
qualifiedly interesting.  In  the  second  place,  the  ar- 
rangement is  not  orderly.  In  the  third  place,  the 
sentences  of  Mr.  Weiss  sometimes  need  studying  to 
discover  his  meaning.  I have  great  respect  and  ad- 
miration for  Mr.  Weiss,  but  I do  not  like  his  style. 
I often  wish  that  his  large  and  noble  thoughts  were 
expressed  with  more  simplicity.  He  reminds  me  of' 
an  anecdote  of  Mr.  Berrien  of  Georgia.  A stranger, 
who  had  just  been  hearing  Foote  of  Mississippi  speak 
in  Congress,  remarked  to  Mr.  Berrien,  “ Foote  has 
great  command  of  language.”  “ On  the  contrary,” 
replied  Berrien,  “ I think  language  has  great  command 
of  him.”  I think  scorn  of  simplicity  and  directness 
is  the  crying  sin  of  writers  of  the  present  day. 


180 


LETTERS. 


TO  MISS  ELIZA  SCUDDER. 

Watland,  1864. 

Another  encouraging  thing  is  the  marvellous  and 
constantly  increasing  change  in  public  opinion  on  the 
subject  of  slavery.  Only  think  of  George  Thomp- 
son’s speaking  in  the  Halls  of  Congress,  and  of  John 
Brown’s  Hallelujah  being' performed  there  ! Captain 

of  the  United  States,  Navy,  has  been  a bitter 

pro-slavery  man,  violent  in  his  talk  against  abolition- 
ists and  “ niggers.”  He  has  been  serving  in  the 
vicinity  of  New  Orleans,  and*  has  come  home  on  a 
furlough,  an  outspoken  abolitionist.  He  not  only 
says  it  in  private,  but  has  delivered  three  lectures 
in  town,  in  which  he  has  publicly  announced  the 
total  change  in  his  sentiments  since  he  had  “ an  op- 
portunity to  know  something  on  the  subject.”  A 
few  days  ago  he  was  going  in  the  cars  from  Boston 
to  Roxbury,  when  a colored  soldier  entered  the  car. 
Attempting  to  seat  himself,  he  was  repulsed  by  a 
white  man,  who  rudely  exclaimed,  “ I ’m  not  going  to 
ride  with  niggers.”  Captain  W.,  who  sat  a few  seats 
farther  forward,  rose  up,  in  all  the  gilded  glory  of  his 
naval  uniform,  and  called  out,  “ Come  here,  my  good 
fellow  ! I ’ve  been  fighting  alongside  of  people  of 
your  color,  and  glad  enough  I was  to  have  ’em  by  my 
side.  Come  sit  by  me.”  Two  years  ago  I would  not 
have  believed  such  a thing  possible  of  him.  So  the 
work  goes  on  in  all  directions. 


TO  MRS.  S.  B.  SHAW. 


1864. 

I suppose  you  will  hear  of  George  Thompson  while 
he  is  in  New  York,  if  you  do  not  see  him.  How 


LETTERS. 


181 


wonderful  it  is  that  he  should  be  received  in  this 
manner,  when  twenty-nine  years  ago  he  had  to  hustle 
away  privately  to  Halifax  to  take  passage  for  Eng- 
land, because  his  life  was  in  danger  in  our  cities  ! 
Now  a great  deal  of  the  respectability  of  Boston 
unites  with  us  to  give  him  a grand  reception,  and  his 
entrance  is  greeted  with  hurrahs  ! 

“ To-day  abhorred,  to-morrow  adored. 

So  round  and  round  we  run  ; 

And  ever  the  Truth  comes  uppermost, 

And  ever  is  Justice  done.” 

I met  Mr.  Thompson  at  the  Anti-slavery  OflSce. 
In  talking  with  him,  I told  him  how  wrathy  I had 
been  with  England.  “ You  should  remember,  Mrs. 
Child,”  said  he,  “ how  your  cause  was  made  to  ap- 
pear in  the  eyes  of  the  world.  First,  your  President’s 
inaugural  was  largely  taken  up  with  assurances  that 
fugitive  slaves  would  be  returned  to  their  masters, 
and  that  those  who  attempted  to  interfere  would  be 
punished  ; secondly,  two  of  your  generals  volunteered 
offers  to  put  down  insurrections  of  the  slaves,  should 
they  try  to  obtain  their  freedom  ; thirdly,  slaves  who 
escaped  into  your  lines  were  sent  back  and  cruelly 
scourged  by  the  tyrants  from  whose  power  they  had 
sought  your  protection  ; fourthly,  Mr.  Seward  charged 
Mr.  Adams  not  to  speak  of  slavery,  and,  through 
him,  gave  assurance  that  ‘ the  status  of  no  class  of 
people  in  America  would  be  changed  by  the  war  ; ’ 
fifthly.  President  Lincoln,  after  the  war  had  contin- 
ued more  than  a year,  offered  the  slave-holders  a hun- 
dred days  to  consider  whether  they  would  come  back 
with  their  chattels,  or  still  fight  for  their  independ- 
ence at  the  risk  of  the  abolition  of  slavery.  Was 
there  anything  in  this  to  excite  the  enthusiasm  of  the 


182 


LETTERS. 


English  people  about  your  war  ? ” I was  obliged  to 
confess  that  there  was  not,  and  that  I had  myself 
often  apologized  for  the  common  people  of  England 
in  that  very  way ; saying,  I felt  ‘‘  sure  their  hearts 
would  sympathize  with  any  war  for  freedom  and  hu- 
manity.” “ Now  that  freedom  appears  to  be  the 
dominant  idea,  the  common  people  of  England  do 
sympathize  with  you  most  heartily,”  replied  he.  “As 
for  the  aristocratic  classes,  a desire  to  see  the  grand 
experiment  of  a republic  fail  underlies  all  their  hos- 
tility to  the  North.”  I admitted  the  truth  of  all  this  ; 
but  after  all,  it  must  be  remembered  that  our  haughty 
step-dame  England  hastened  to  recognize  the  rebels 
as  belligerents  before  we  had  given  any  of  the  alleged 
signs  of  subservience  to  slavery.  Did  you  see  Kings- 
ley’s exultation  over  the  idea  that  the  pages  he  was 
writing  might  meet  the  eyes  of  that  great  hero  and 
statesman,  Jeff.  Davis  ? It  was  miserable  twaddle,  to 
say  nothing  of  its  want  of  principle.  It  does  seem  to 
me  remarkable  that  the  literary  men  of  England 
should  so  favor  a cause  avowedly  founded  on  despot- 
ism. 

, TO  MISS  ELIZA  SCUDDER. 

Watland,  1864. 

I wish  there  were  not  such  a wall  of  partition  be- 
tween us  and  the  animal  world.  It  would  be  so  cu- 
rious and  entertaining  to  understand  what  they  are 
about,  and  to  help  them  in  emergencies  by  our  supe- 
rior strength  and  wisdom.  The  swallow’s  nest  in  the 
sitting-room  chimney  fell  down  a few  days  ago.  Four 
of  the  little  birds  were  dead,  but  one  was  alive  and 
lusty,  though  its  eyes  were  not  yet  opened!  The 
mother,  not  knowing  what  to  do,  flew  up  chimney, 
and  left  it  to  its  fate,  I tried  to  feed  it  with  flies  on 


LETTERS. 


183 


a pin  ; but  it  was  of  no  use.  I did  not  understand  its 
ways.  The  poor  little  thing  scrambled  round  with  so 
much  energy,  called  its  mother  so  loudly,  and  mani- 
fested such  a determination  to  live,  that  it  made  me 
very  sorry  to  be  unable  to  help  it.  But  it  was  better 
for  it  to  die ; for  if  I had  succeeded  in  bringing  it  up 
by  hand,  the  foolish  little  thing  would  have  been  be- 
wildered in  all  its  instincts,  and  never  have  known 
how  to  bring  up  a family.  . . . One  of  the  pictures, 
“ The  Trumpeting  Angel  of  Fra  Angelico,”  charmed 
me  extremely.  But  after  all,  the  angels,  I appre- 
hend, are  something  very  superior  to  all  that.  We 
know  as  little  about  them  and  their  ways  as  the 
chimney  swallows  know  about  us.  Walls  of  partition 
rise  up  everywhere,  above  and  below. 

TO  THE  SAME. 

Watland,  1864. 

I am  a happy  woman  since  the  election.^  It  makes 
me  feel  that  our  republican  form  of  government  rests 
on  more  secure  foundations.  There  was  no  enthusi- 
asm for  honest  old  Abe.  There  is  no  beauty  in  him, 
that  men  should  desire  him  ; there  is  no  insinuating, 
polished  manner,  to  beguile  the  senses  of  the  people  ; 
there  is  no  dazzling  military  renown  ; no  silver  flow 
of  rhetoric  ; in  fact,  no  glittering  prestige  of  any  kind 
surrounds  him ; yet  the  people  triumphantly  elected 
him,  in  spite  of  all  manner  of  machinations,  and  not- 
withstanding the  long,  long  drag  upon  their  patience 
and  their  resources  which  this  war  has  produced.  I 
call  this  the  triumph  of  free  schools ; for  it  was  the 
intelligence  and  reason  of  the  people  that  reelected 
Abraham  Lincoln.  He  has  his  faults,  and  I have 
1 The  second  election  of  President  Lincoln. 


184 


LETTERS. 


sometimes  been  out  of  patience  with  him ; but  I will 
say  of  him  that  I have  constantly  gone  on  liking  him 
better  and  better.  His  recent  reply  to  some  people 
who  serenaded  him  charmed  me  exceedingly.  A 
most  beautiful  spirit  pervaded  it.  As  for  Andy 
Johnson,  he  has  completely  taken  me  captive  by  his 
speech  at  Nashville.  To  think  of  that  colored  proces- 
sion going  through  the  streets  of  Nashville,  greeted 
from  the  windows  with  hurrahs,  and  waving  of  hats 
and  handkerchiefs  ! To  think  of  the  Vice  President 
of  the  United  States  promising  to  be  their  Moses,  to 
lead  them  out  of  bondage,  telling  them,  “ Remember 
they  who  would  be  free,  themselves  must  strike  the 
blow ! ” And  all  this  in  Nashville  where  Amos 
Dresser,  thirty  years  ago,  was  publicly  flogged  for 
having  an  abolition  tract  in  his  carpet-bag  ! Then  to 
think  of  Maryland  wheeling  into  the  circle  of  free 
States,  with  ringing  of  bells  and  waving  of  banners  ! 
To  think  of  the  triumphal  arch  in  the  streets  of  Bal- 
timore, whereon,  with  many  honored  historical  names, 
were  inscribed  the  names  of  Benjamin  Banneker  and 
R.  R.  Forten,  two  colored  men ! Glory  to  God  ! 
This  is  marvellous  progress.  Glory  to  God  ! Halle- 
lujah ! 

Miss  Cobbe’s  introduction  to  the  “ Life  of  Theodore 
Parker  ” I like  extremely.  It  is  a truly  manly  pro- 
duction ; thus  we  are  obliged  to  compliment  the  “ su- 
perior sex  ” when  we  seek  to  praise  our  own.  I have 
also  been  reading  her  “Broken  Lights.”  Her  analysis 
of  the  present  state  of  the  churches  is  very  clear  and 
complete.  Concerning  her  “ Church  of  the  Future  ” 
I am  more  doubtful.  Sterne  says,  very  truly,  “ A 
philosophic  religion  is  fit  for  philosphers  only.”  Miss 
Cobbe,  and  minds  that  are  kindred  to  hers,  will  be 


LETTERS. 


185 


satisfied  with  the  “ internal  consciousness  of  God  ; ” 
but  will  the  masses  of  men  ever  arrive  at  that  height? 
For  myself,  I think  the  church  of  the  future  is  to  be 
a church  of  deeds,  not  of  doctrines  of  any  kind.  Men 
will  combine  together  to  work  for  each  other,  as 
children  of  the  Universal  Father;  and  these  combina- 
tions will  be  to  them  as  churches. 

TO  MISS  LUCY  OSGOOD. 

Watland,  1865. 

I thank  you  for  your  two  right  pleasant  letters. 
T have  several  times  been  amused  at  being  charged 
with  totally  different  deficiencies  by  different  people. 
You  accuse  me  of  “ being  indifferent  to  externals,” 
whereas  the  common  charge  against  me  is  that  I 
think  too  much  of  beauty,  and  say  too  much  about  it. 
I myself  think  it  is  one  of  my  greatest  weaknesses. 
A handsome  man,  woman,  or  child,  can  always  make 
a fool  and  a pack-horse  of  me.  My  next  neighbor’s 
little  boy  has  me  completely  under  his  thumb,  merely 
by  virtue  of  his  beautiful  eyes  and  sweet  voice. 

I have  been  a very  happy  woman  since  this  year 
came  in.  My  Sunset  book^  has  had  most  unexpected 
success.  The  edition  of  4,000  sold  before  New  Year’s 
Day,  and  they  say  they  might  have  sold  2,000  more  if 
they  had  been  ready.  This  pleases  me  beyond  meas- 
ure, for  the  proceeds,  whether  more  or  less,  were 
vowed  to  the  freedmen  ; and  cheering  old  folks  with 
one  hand,  and  helping  the  wronged  and  suffering 
with  the  other,  is  the  highest  recreation  I ever  en- 
joyed. Nobles  or  princes  cannot  discover,  or  invent, 
any  pleasure  equal  to  earning  with  one  hand  and 
giving  with  the  other.  I seldom  have  a passing  wish 

1 Looking  towards  Sunset.  From  Sources  Old  and  New,  Original  and 
Selected.  By  L.  Maria  Child.  Boston,  1 864. 


186 


LETTERS. 


for  enlarged  means  except  for  tlie  sake  of  doing 
more  for  others.  My  own  wants  are  very  few  and 
simple.  I am  glad  3^011  approve  of  the  book.  I 
am  not  surprised  that  the  “ Mysterious  Pilgrimage  ” 
seemed  to  you  “ fanciful.”  You  know  there  is  a 
practical  side  and  a poetic  side  to  me.  In  a book  de- 
signed for  general  readers,  I thought  it  best  to  show 
both  sides.  What  most  pleases  one  class  of  readers 
will  be  less  pleasing  to  others.  I am  surprised  that 
you  say  nothing  about  Bernard  Palissy.  He  is  per- 
fectly charming  to  me.  My  prime  object  in  making 
the  Sunset  book  was  to  present  old  people  with 
something  wholly  cheerful.  Human  nature,  as  the 
3'ears  pass  on,  more  and  more  requires  cheerful  influ- 
ences. Memory  has  a superabounding  stock  of  sad- 
ness for  all,  and  any  addition  to  it  in  books  or  con- 
versation is  an  unwelcome  excess.  To  everything 
there  is  a bright  side  and  a dark  side  ; and  I hold  it 
to  be  unwise,  unphilosophic,  unkind  to  others,  and 
unhealthy  for  one’s  own  soul,  to  form  the  habit  of 
looking  on  the  dark  side.  Cheerfulness  is  to  the 
spiritual  atmosphere  what  sunshine  is  to  the  earthly 
landscape.  I am  resolved  to  cherish  cheerfulness 
with  might  and  main. 

William  C.  Bryant  wrote  me  a charming  note 
about  the  book.  I will  quote  part  of  it  to  you,  be- 
cause I know  you  like  to  hear  of  anything  pleasant 
that  happens  to  me.  He  says : M3"  dear  Mrs. 

Child,  you  are  like  some  artists,  who  excel  in  ‘ sun- 
set ’ views.  You  give  the  closing  stage  of  human 
life  an  atmosphere  of  the  richest  lights  and  warmest 
liues,  and  make  even  its  clouds  add  to  its  glory.  My 
wife  and  I have  read  your  book  with  great  delight.” 
And  wliile  I am  talking  of  the  pleasant  things  that 


LETTERS. 


187 


have  happened  to  me  lately  I will  ask,  “ What  do 
you  think  I had  for  a New  Year’s  present  ? ” Mrs. 
L.,  bless  her  kind  soul ! sent  me  Milmore’s  bust  of 
Charles  Sumner.  Now  the  fact  is,  I had  a private 
longing  for  that  bust,  though  I never  mentioned  it 
to  any  mortal.  I did  once  think  about  inquiring  the 
price ; but  I remembered  the  freedmen  and  the  sol- 
diers, and  resolved  not  to  put  myself  in  the  way  of 
temptation.  It  is  not  only  a good  likeness,  but  it  is 
a wonderfully  speaking  likeness,  full  of  the  noble 
soul  of  the  man. 

TO  HON.  GEORGE  W.  JULIAN. 

April  8,  1865. 

We  must  not  forget  that  all  great  revolutions  and 
reformations  would  look  mean  and  meagre  if  exam- 
ined in  detail  as  they  occurred  at  the  time.  We  talk 
of  Constantine  as  the  “ Christian  ” Emperor  ; but  it 
is  more  than  doubtful  whether  he  ever  adopted,  or 
even  understood,  the  first  principles  of  Christianity. 
The  converts  to  the  new  religion  had  become  so 
numerous  that  they  were  an  element  of  power ; and 
if  he  did  not  avail  himself  of  their  influence,  rivals 
would.  If  their  church  could  prop  up  his  throne,  he 
was  very  willing  it  should  become  the  religion  of  the 
state. 

If  we  examine  into  the  Protestant  reformation  we 
shall  find  that  the  sincere  and  earnest  men  engaged 
in  it  bore  no  greater  proportion  to  the  time-serving 
and  self-seeking  than  do  the  thorough  anti-slavery 
men  to  the  politicians  of  our  own  time.  And  then 
what  base  agents  helped  on  that  great  work  ! Who 
would  have  supposed  that  Henry  the  Eighth  could 
have  been'  turned  to  any  good  account  ? It  is  mar- 


188 


LETTERS. 


Yelloiis  by  bow  small  a force  this  world  is  moved,  in 
point  of  numbers,  when  God  is  on  their  side.  Still 
more  wonderful  is  it  to  observe  what  poor,  mean 
cattle  God  yokes  to  the  car  of  progress,  and  makes 
them  draw  in  a direction  they  are  striving  to  avoid. 
It  has  been  most  strikingly  illustrated  in  the  course 
of  this  war.  The  details  are  often  ludicrous  exhibi- 
tions of  human  inconsistency  and  selfishness,  but  the 
result  is  a sublime  manifestation  of  an  overruling 
Providence. 


TO  MISS  LUCY  OSGOOD. 

Wayland,  1865. 

I received  a letter  last  week  from  William  H. 
Channing,  in  acknowledgment  of  funds  sent  to  the 
freedmen  in  his  department.  He  is  the  same  infinite 
glow  that  he  was  when  he  took  my  heart  captive 
twenty  years  ago.  He  writes  : “ You  ought  to  have 
been  in  Congress  on  the  ever-to-be-remembered  31st 
of  January  1865.^  Such  an  outburst  of  the  people’s 
heart  has  never  been  seen  in  the  Capitol  since  the  na- 
tion was  born.  It  was  the  sunrise  of  a new  day  for 
the  republic.  I was  standing  by  John  Jay,  and  as 
we  shook  hands  over  the  glorious  vote  I could  not 
but  say,  ‘ Are  not  our  fathers  and  grandfathers  here 
with  us  ? They  surely  must  be  here  to  share  our 
• joy  in  thus  gathering  the  fruit  of  which  they  planted 
the  seed.’  Yes  ! and  our  blessed,  great-hearted  Theo- 
dore Parker  was  there,  with  a band  of  witnesses. 
Selah ! ” 

1 The  day  on  which  the  Thirteenth  Amendment  to  the  Constitu- 
tion, abolishing  slavery  in  the  United  States,  passed  the  House  of 
Representatives,  and  (having  previously  passed  the  Senate)  went  to 
the  Legislatures  of  the  several  States  for  ratification. 


LETTERS. 


189 


Yesterday  I walked  up  to  see  Mr.  and  Mrs.  S., 
where  I have  not  been  for  a year.  He  is  full  of  the 
great  Convocation  of  Unitarians  at  New  York,  to 
which  he  is  sent  as  delegate.  He  seems  to  think  it 
will  be  very  easy  to  settle  “a  few  fundamental  prin- 
ciples, in  which  all  can  agree,  while  sufficient  room 
for  progress  will  be  left  in  unsettled  minor  opinions.” 
But  his  very  first  “ fundamental  principle  ” concern- 
ing the  divine  origin  of  Jesus  puts  up  a bar  that  stops 
the  chariot  wheels.  There  is  a large  class  of  minds 
that  cannot  see  in  Unitarianism  a mere  half-way 
house,  where  spiritual  travellers  find  themselves  well 
accommodated  for  the  night,  but  where  they  grow 
weary  of  spending  the  day.  And  many  of  them  will 
not  even  spend  a night  there,  when  they  discover  a 
new  road,  so  shortened  and  straightened,  that  when 
they  want  to  call  upon  the  Father,  they  are  under  no 
necessity  of  going  roundabout  to  call  upon  the  Son. 

TO  MRS.  S.  B.  SHAW. 

1865. 

You  were  curious  to  know  who  it  was  that  offered 
to  pay  $1,800  for  the  redemption  of  Thomas  Sims. 
It  was  Major-General  Devens,  who  was  United  States 
marshal  at  the  time  of  the  rendition  of  Sims.  He 
made  the  offer  unasked;  and  when  Sims  found  his 
way  North  again  he  sent  him,  through  me,  $100  to 
assist  him  till  he  could  get  into  business.  It  seems 
to  me  a singularly  noble  proceeding.  I suppose 
that  his  idea  of  the  necessity  of  sustaining  law,  and 
his  great  admiration  of  Daniel  Webster,  led  him  to 
do  what  pained  his  heart  at  the  time  and  troubled 
his  conscience  afterward.  But  you  would  rarely  find 
a man  who  would  atone  so  nobly  for  an  error.  Now 


190 


LETTERS. 


that  the  war  is  over,  and  slavery  is  abolished,  I think 
his  reason  for  enjoining  secresy  no  longer  exists. 
When  I urged  upon  him  that  the  moral  influence  of 
the  action  might  do  good,  he  did  not  renew  his  prohi- 
bition. In  a recent  letter  to  me  he  expresses  great 
satisfaction  that  he  has  been  enabled  to  take  an  act- 
ive part  in  the  struggle  that  has  resulted  in  the 
emancipation  of  the  slaves.  How  I wish  that  your 
darling  Robert  had  survived  to  look  back  upon  the 
Revolution  as  a thing  completed,  and  to  glory  in  his 
share  of  it ! Yet  perhaps  it  would  not  have  been  bet- 
ter so.  I am  glad  it  is  proposed  to  erect  a statue  to 
him  in  Boston  ; but  I hope  they  will  not  place  it  in 
the  vicinity  of  Daniel  Webster.  If  Webster  had 
done  his  duty,  there  would  have  been  no  storming  of 
Fort  Wagner. 

TO  THE  SAME. 


1865. 

I agree  with  Garrison  in  thinking  the  Anti-Slavery 
Society  had  better  dissolve  when  the  States  have  rat- 
ified the  amendment  to  the  Constitution.  But  I 
think  they  ought  to  form  themselves  into  a society  for 
the  protection  of  the  freedmen.  Those  old  slave- 
holders will  “ act  like  Cain  ” as  long  as  they  li  ve. 
They  will  try  to  discourage,  misrepresent,  and  harass 
the  emancipated  slave  in  every  way,  in  order  to  pre- 
vent the  new  system  of  things  from  working  well, 
just  as  the  Jamaica  planters  did.  It  will  not  do  to 
trust  the  interests  of  the  emancipated  to  compromis- 
ing politicians  ; their  out-and-out  radical  friends  must 
mount  guard  over  them. 


LETTERS. 


191 


TO  MRS.  ANNA  LORING  DRESEL. 

Wayland,  February  13,  1866. 

It  takes  Germans  to  make  pictures  of  real,  all-alive 
children,  because  they  are  an  honest,  child-like  na- 
tion. The  French  make  graceful  puppets  and  fash- 
ionable dolls.  I have  laughed  and  laughed  over  that 
little  book,  and  I dare  say  the  sight  of  it  will  have 
a cheering  influence  all  the  year  through,  whenever 
I am  inclined  to  be  sad.  It  will  be  like  having  a 
play  with  children,  with  the  great  advantage  of  put- 
ting them  away  when  I like.  The  literary  portion  of 
it  is  not  above  my  comprehension,  with  the  exception 
of  three  or  four  words  which  I suppose  to  be  baby 
lingo.  I thank  your  dear  mother  very  much  for  the 
beautiful  statuette.  The  more  I look  at  it,  the  more 
I am  impressed  witli  the  genius  indicated  by  the  con- 
ception and  execution  of  the  group.  That  craving  for 
beauty  lies  too  deep  in  my  nature  ever  to  be  uprooted. 
Speaking  of  beauty,  I wish  you  could  have  seen  our 
great  elm-tree,  one  morning,  when  a cold  night  had 
completely  incrusted  it  with  the  frozen  vapor  of  the 
preceding  warm  day.  Such  great  branches  of  pearls 
and  diamonds  lifted  up  high  in  the  air,  with  the  dark- 
est and  clearest  blue  sky  for  a back-ground.  I am  a 
great  admirer  of  winter  scenery,  but  never  in  my  life 
have  I seen  anything  so  beautiful  as  that.  I shouted 
again  and  again,  and  I would  have  run  two  miles  to 
have  caught  a poet  to  come  and  shout  with  me. 
David  admired  it  greatly,  and  made  divers  superb 
comparisons  in  a quiet,  philosophic  way,  but  I 
could  n’t  get  him  up  to  the  shouting  point. 


192 


LETTERS. 


TO  REV.  SAMUEL  J.  MAY. 

Watland,  January,  1866. 

I was  greatly  refreshed  by  your  affectionate  letter 
about  “ The  Freedmen’s  Book.”  I live  so  entirely 
apart  from  the  world  that  when  I publish  anything 
I rarely  see  or  hear  anything  about  the  effect  it  pro- 
duces. I sent  the  slave-holders,  the  year  before  the 
war,  over  twelve  hundred  copies  of  “ The  Right  Way 
the  Safe  Way,”  directed  them  with  my  own  hand,  and 
paid  the  postage  out  of  my  own  purse ; and  I received 
but  one  response.  I had  a feeling  that  such  a book 
as  the  “Freedmen’s  Book”  was  needed  at  the  pres- 
ent time  and  might  do  good.  In  order  to  adapt  it 
carefully  for  them,  I wrote  over  two  hundred  letter 
pages  of  manuscript  copy ; and  then,  despairing  of 
getting  it  published,  I paid  $600  to  get  it  through 
the  press ; which  sum,  if  it  ever  returns,  will  be  a 
fund  to  help  in  the  education  of  the  freedmen  and 
their  children.  I have  done  what  I could,  and  I hope 
a blessing  will  rest  upon  it.  That  you  approve  of  it 
so  heartily  is  one  guaranty  that  it  will  be  useful. 

TO  MISS  LUCY  OSGOOD. 

Wayland,  1886. 

It  seems  a long  while  since  I received  your  very  ^ 
lively  letter. 

With  regard  to  the  comparative  value  of  novels  > 
and  sermons,  you  go  farther  for  your  side  than  I could  j 
go  for  mine.  You  confess  to  enjoying  “ a dullish  ser- 
mon.” I cannot  wade  through  a dullish  novel.  A 
third-rate  one  I never  read,  unless  I read  it  aloud,  to  ^ 
oblige  some  one  else ; and  I can  scarcely  tolerate  even  | 
second-rate  ones.  A first-rate  novel  I do  enjoy  bet- 


LETTERS. 


193 


ter  than  any  other  reading.  I like  them  better  now 
tlian  I did  in  my  youth  ; partly  because  the  need  of 
being  entertained  grows  upon  people  in  general  as 
the  sad  experiences  of  life  multiply,  and  partly  be- 
cause I live  so  much  in  solitude  that  pictures  of  so- 
ciety supply,  in  some  degree,  the  place  of  society.  I 
agree  with  you  entirely  with  regard  to  public  teach- 
ing at  stated  seasons.  I think  all  classes  of  minds 
would  be  benefited  by  it.  What  I complain  of  is 
that  they  do  not  really  get  teaching.  The  habits  and 
wants  of  society  have  changed,  and  preaching  has  not 
sufficiently  changed  with  them. 

Very  little  of  the  preaching  is  adapted  to  the 
wants  of  any  class  of  minds.  When  people  hear  true 
living  words  spoken  concerning  the  things  they  are 
doing  and  tlie  thoughts  they  are  thinking,  they  hear 
the  words  gladly.  The  magnetic  power  of  Theodore 
Parker  and  Henry  Ward  Beecher,  I think,  is  largely 
to  be  attributed  to  the  fact  that  they  meet  the  popu- 
lar mind  on  its  own  plane  instead  of  addressing  it 
from  a height.  I do  not  want  to  see  preaching  abol- 
ished, but  I do  want  to  see  its  sphere  enlarged. 
There  must  be  some  cause  for  the  prevailing  and 
ever-increasing  feeling  of  its  insufficiency.  As  for 
me,  after  struggling  much  with  my  disinclination  to 
attend  meeting,  I have  given  up  the  contest. 

I have  n’t,  for  years,  attended  any  anti-slavery 
meetings,  or  lectures  of  any  sort ; I have  such  a dread 
of  the  constraint.  Then,  one  has  to  go  through  so 
much  to  get  so  little  at  any  of  the  conventions  or 
great  gatherings  ! It  is  necessary  to  listen  to  half- 
a-dozen  commonplace  speeches  before  a good  one 
comes  on.  It  is  “ swimming  through  the  Mediterra- 

o o 

13 


194 


LETTERS. 


Tiean  to  catch  a smelt,”  as  old  Dr.  Allyiie  used  to 
say. 

I hope  you  have  seen  Bierstadt’s  “ Storm  on  the 
Rocky  Mountains.”  I went  to  look  at  it  when  I was 
last  in  Boston,  and  I wanted  to  stay  all  day  ; though 
I had  an  impression  that  the  rain  would  pour  down 
from  those  clouds,  and  the  lightning  flash  through 
them,  if  I stayed  there  long.  Such  clouds  I did  not 
suppose  to  be  possible  on  canvas.  They  seemed  so 
distinctly  to  roll  away  that  I was  surprised  to  look  up 
and  find  them  still  there. 

TO  REV.  SAMUEL  J.  MAY. 

Wayland,  1867. 

Your  anti-slavery  sketches  ^ carry  me  back  pleas- 
antly to  those  b}^gone  days  when  our  souls  were 
raised  above  the  level  of  common  life  by  the  glorious 
inspiration  of  unselfish  zeal.  It  seems  but  a little 
while  ago,  and  yet  men  speak  of  it  as  a “ dead  sub- 
ject,” so  swiftly  the  world  whirls  round,  carrying  us, 
and  all  memory  of  us,  with  it ! 

In  your  very  kind  notice  of  me,  you  have  exagger- 
ated some  things,  and  omitted  others.  I don’t  think 
I lost  so  much  “per  annum  ” by  espousing  the  anti- 
slavery cause.  At  all  events,  I think  the  indefinite 
statement  that  my  literary  prospects  were  much  in- 
jured by  it  would  have  been  better.  With  regard  to 
society,  I was  a gainer  decidedly  ; for  thougli  the  re- 
spectables, who  had  condescended  to  patronize  me, 
forthwith  sent  me  “ to  Coventry,”  anti-slavery  intro- 

i Some  Recollections  of  our  Anti-Slavery  Conflict,  by  Samuel  J,  May. 
Boston,  1869.  At  the  time  this  letter  was  written,  however,  they 
were  appearing  in  regular  installments  in  the  Christian  Register  of 
Boston. 


LETTERS. 


195 


diiced  me  to  the  noblest  and  best  of  the  land,  intellect- 
ually and  morally,  and  knit  us  together  in  that  firm 
friendship  which  grows  out  of  sympathy  in  a good 
but  unpopular  cause.  Besides,  it  is  impossible  to  es- 
timate how  much  one’s  own  character  gains  by  a war- 
fare which  keeps  the  intellect  wide  awake,  and  com- 
pels one  to  reflect  upon  moral  principles.  I was  quite 
surprised,  one  day,  by  a note  from  the  trustees  of  the 
Boston  Athenaeum,  offering  me  the  free  use  of  the 
library,  the  same  as  if  I owned  a share.  ...  I had 
never  asked  such  a favor,  and  I am  not  aware  that 
any  friend  of  mine  had  ever  solicited  it.  My  husband 
was  anti-slavery,  and  it  was  the  theme  of  many  of 
our  conversations  while  Garrison  was  in  prison. 
About  the  time  of  the  unexpected  attention  from  the 
trustees,  Mr.  Garrison  came  to  Boston,  and  I had  a 
talk  with  him.  Consequently  the  first  use  I made  of 
my  Athenseum  privilege  was  to  take  out  some  books 
on  that  subject,  with  a view  to  writing  my  “ Ap- 
peal.” A few  weeks  after  the  “ Appeal  ” was  pub- 
lished, I received  another  note  from  the  trustees,  in- 
forming me  that  at  a recent  meeting  they  had  passed 
a vote  to  take  away  my  privilege,  lest  it  should  prove 
an  inconvenient  precedent  ! 

TO  MRS.  s.  B.  SHAW. 

Wayland,  1868. 

I did  receive  the  “Breviary,”  but  I had  no  idea  of 
its  coming  from  you.  ...  I might  answer  your  in- 
quiries with  some  roundabout  polite  equivocation, 
but  that  is  not  my  way.  So  I will  e’en  tell  the  plain 
truth.  I never  liked  any  of  that  sort  of  books.  I 
would  never  reflect  at  all,  if  I had  “ Reflections  for 
Every  Day  in  the  Year  ” marked  out  for  me.  I have 


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a strong  resistance  to  all  sorts  of  ritual.  Moreover, 
this  book  of  Scheffer’s  seems  to  me  uncommonly  lu- 
gubrious of  its  kind.  I read  a few  of  the  poems,  and 
they  made  me  feel  so  forlorn  that  I hastened  to  hide 
the  book  away  in  a receptacle  tliat  I keep  for  things 
not  cheerful  to  read,  and  consequently  not  profitable 
to  lend.  The  world  is  so  full  of  sadness  that  I more 
and  more  make  it  a point  to  avoid  all  sadness  that 
does  not  come  within  the  sphere  of  my  duty. 

I read  only  “ chipper”  books.  I hang  prisms  in  my 
windows  to  fill  the  room  with  rainbows ; I gaze  at  all 
the  bright  pictures  in  shop  windows  ; I cultivate  the 
gayest  flowers  ; I seek  cheerfulness  in  every  possible 
way.  This  is  my  ‘‘  necessity  in  being  old.”  Then 
you  know  I never  did  like  the  things  that  “good 
people”  like.  Ritual  was  always  antagonistic  to  my 
temperament;  it  interferes  with  my  free-will,  and  my 
free-will  grows  more  i-ampant  every  year  I live.  And 
now  having  blown  my  blast  against  the  “ saint’s  ” 
book,  I thank  you  sincerely  for  your  friendly  inten- 
tion in  sending  it ; that  I shall  cherish  in  my  memory 
though  I consign  the  book  to  oblivion.  The  poems 
are  certainly  pure,  solid  good  sense ; dreadful  solid. 

TO  MISS  ELIZA  SCUDDER. 

Wayland,  1868. 

In  our  climate  what  a misnomer  it  is  to  call  this 
season  spring ! very  much  like  calling  Calvinism  re- 
ligion. I don’t  care,  I insist  upon  being  glad  that  I 
was  born  in  Massachusetts.  As  for  anybody  that 
prefers  to  have  been  born  among  mosquitoes  and  cop- 
perheads down  South,  or  where  the  sun  sets  behind 
the  Golden  Gate,  why  let  them  go  and  be  born  again. 
I,  being  rather  a Puritanic  person,  stand  by  old  Mas- 


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197 


sachnsetts,  if  she  is  covered  with  snow  in  April.  To 
speak  seriously,  I do  think  our  climate  is  changing. 
For  many  years  I have  noticed  that  winter  extends 
farther  into  spring  than  it  used  to  do  when  I was 
young.  They  say  that  tusks  of  ivory  dug  up  in 
Onalaska  prove  that  region  to  have  once  been  in  the 
tropical  zone.  If  so,  perhaps  we  also  are  steering 
for  the  North  Pole.  It  is  comforting  to  know  that  I 
shall  not  be  on  board  when  the  old  ship  Massachu- 
setts anchors  among  the  icebergs.  That  “ precession 
of  the  equinoxes  ” is  a mysterious  business.  What  it 
is  going  to  do  with  this  earth  of  ours  I don’t  know. 

TO  MRS.  S.  E.  SEWALL. 

Wayland,  July  30,  1868. 

As  you  and  Mr.  Sewall  are  one,  and  he  is  too 
busy  to  read  rhapsodical  letters,  I will  write  to  you 
to  thank  him  for  “ The  Gypsy,”  and  I do  thank 
him  most  fervently.  I think  some  good  brownie 
helps  you  two  to  find  out  what  I most  want.  I have 
been  hankering  after  that  “ Spanish  Gypsy  ” and 
trying  to  borrow  it,  but  I did  not  hint  that  to  you, 
knowing  your  lavish*  turn  of  mind.  Some  of  my 
friends  think  I make  an  exaggerated  estimate  of  the 
author  of  “ Adam  Bede,”  but  I have  long  ranked  her 
as  the  greatest  among  women  intellectually,  and  the 
moral  tone  of  her  writings  seems  to  me  always  pure 
and  elevated.  I never  expected  to  enjoy  a poem 
again  so  much  as  I enjoyed  “ Aurora  Leigh,”  but  I 
think  the  Gypsy  is  fully  equal,  if  not  superior.  I read 
it  through  at  first  ravenously,  all  aglow ; then  I read 
it  through  a second  time  slowly  and  carefully,  to  taste 
every  drop  of  the  sparkling  nectar.  The  artistic 
construction  cannot  be  too  highly  praised,  and  it  is 


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radiant  throughout  with  poetic  light.  \ . . That  won- 
derful glorification  of  the  juggler’s  exhibition  made 
me  so  wild  with  delightful  excitement  that  my  soul 
heard  the  music,  saw  the  transfiguring  light  of  the 
setting  sun,  and  went  leaping  through  the  dance  with 
Fedalma.  It  is  an  immortal  picture  in  my  gallery 
for  the  other  world. 

TO  FRANCIS  G.  SHAW. 

Wayland,  February  11,  1869. 
Dear  Friend  of  old  times  and  of  all  times: 

To-day  I am  sixty-seven  years  old.  Living  out  of 
the  world  as  I do,  and  keeping  few  holy-days,  I have 
formed  the  habit  of  consecrating  this  day  in  my  small 
way.  When  I feel  like  praying,  I pray ; and  I gen- 
erall}^  do  on  this  anniversary,  so  full  of  memories  of 
the  past,  and  of  aspirations  for  the  future,  stretching 
into  the  eternal  world.  I look  at  the  photographs  of 
my  intimate  friends  always  with  a swelling  heart, 
but  for  the  purpose  of  recalling  everything  pleasant 
associated  with  them,  not  to  indulge  in  mourning  for 
those  who  are  separated  from  me  by  time,  distance, 
or  change  of  existence. 

A few  nights  ago,  after  the  sun  had  set,  the  broad 
sheet  of  ice  on  the  meadows  was  all  roseate  and 
glowing  with  the  reflected  light.  I strive  to  realize 
this  in  the  state  of  my  own  soul.  My  sun  is  setting, 
and  the  ice  of  age  is  gathering  around  me,  but  light 
from  above  and  warm  flushes  of  memory  fall  on  the 
wintry  landscape  and  make  it  beautiful.  . . . 

I formerly  thought  that  the  New  Church  opened 
for  us  a view  of  the  eternal  city  with  its  gold  and 
precious  gems.  It  was  a pleasant  vision,  and  it  did 
much  to  help  the  growth  of  my  soul ; but  happy  as 


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199 


tlie  state  was,  I would  not  go  back  to  it  if  I could.  I 
have  stumbled  over  much  in  cold  and  darkness  since 
then,  but  I know  that  also  is  one  of  the  appointed 
means  of  growth.  We  do  not  choose  our  states,  they 
come  upon  us.  The  best  we  can  do  is  to  reverently 
follow  all  the  truth  it  is  given  us  to  see  at  any  time. 
My  faith  in  theological  doctrines  of  any  kind  has 
diminished  almost  to  vanishing,  but  my  faith  in  eter- 
nal principles  has  grown  ever  stronger  and  stronger, 
and  more  and  more  humble  and  reverent  is  my  desire 
to  embody  them  in  my  life.  . . . 

I still  think  that  Fourier  was  a great  prophet  of 
the  future.  I am  convinced  that  this  troublesome 
knot  of  employers  and  employed  can  never  be  disen- 
tangled except  by  some  process  of  association  which 
shall  apportion  some  manual  labor  to  all,  and  some 
culture  and  recreation  to  all.  . . . The  peace  of  God 
be  with  you  all ! 


TO  MRS.  S.  B.  SHAW. 

Watland,  1869. 

The  music-box  arrived  safely,  and  I thank  you  from 
my  inmost  heart  for  thinking  of  your  old  friend,  and 
wishing  to  give  her  pleasure.  The  old  music-box  is 
very  dear  to  me.  Its  powers  are  limited,  but  what  it 
does  say  it  says  very  sweetly ; and  the  memories  it 
sings  to  me  are  the  dearest  of  all.  . . . 

We  had  quite  a glorification  here  over  Grant’s 
election.  We  had  a really  handsome  procession  of 
five  hundred  men  bearing  flags  and  gay-colored  lan- 
terns, and  attended  by  a band  of  music  from  Boston. 
I had  no  idea  they  would  come  up  so  far  as  our  house  ; 
but  as  we  had  subscribed,  as  they  thought,  liberally, 
they  concluded  to  pay  us  that  compliment.  When 


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we  beard  the  sounds  coming  nearer  and  nearer,  and 
saw  tlie  first  torches  pass  our  nearest  neighbor’s,  I 
tore  open  the  curtains,  and  scrambled  to  place  four- 
teen lights  in  the  front  windows ; being  all  I could 
get  up  on  such  short  notice.  Then  I went  to  the 
front  door  and  waved  a great  white  cloth,  and  joined 
in  the  hurrahs  of  the  procession  like  a “strong- 
minded  ” woman  as  I am.  The  fact  is,  I forget  half 
the  time  whether  I belong  to  the  stronger  or  weaker 
sex. 

While  I was  demonstrating  at  one  door,  David  was 
exercising  his  lungs  at  another.  A crowd  of  foreign- 
ers were  following  the  procession  in  a discomfited 
state  of  mind,  and  seeing  us  so  jubilant  they  called 
out,  “ Three  cheers  for  the  nigger  President ! ” a 
curious  title  to  bestow  on  Grant,  who  has  never  mani- 
fested the  slightest  interest  in  the  colored  people. 
But  I don’t  want  him  to  be  a “nigger  President.” 
I simply  want  him  to  see  that  equal  justice  is  admin- 
istered to  all  classes  of  people,  and  I have  great  hopes 
he  will  do  that.  So  unpretending  a man  must  be 
substantially  good  and  honest,  I think.  However,  I 
did  not  shout  from  such  enthusiasm  for  him  so  much 
as  I did  from  a feeling  of  relief  that  we  were  rid  of 
Seymour. 

TO  MISS  LUCY  OSGOOD. 

Wayland,  1869. 

I have  read  a good  many  of  Taine’s  papers  on  Art, 
and  always  witli  great  zest.  His  descriptions  of 
Venice  in  “ Les  Deux  Mondes”  is  wonderfully  glow- 
ing and  poetic.  It  was  almost  like  seeing  that  city 
of  enchantment.  Max  Muller’s  “Chips”  I have 
never  seen.  The  greatest  extravagance  I have  com- 
mitted for  years  was  buying  his  “ Science  of  Lan- 


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201 


guage,”  price  seven  dollars,  as  a birthday  present  for 
my  philological  mate.  His  habit  of  digging  for  the 
origin  of  words  has  proved  contagious,  and  he  often 
expresses  surprise  at  the  help  my  quick  guesses  af- 
ford him  in  his  patient  researches.  I resolutely  read 
Max  Muller’s  “ Science  of  Language,”  and  picked 
up  a good  many  new  ideas  and  valuable  suggestions ; 
but  to  read  it  with  full  understanding  required  a 
great  deal  more  learning  than  I possess. 

A friend  is  accustomed  to  say  that  my  “ bark  is 
worse  than  my  bite  ; ” and  it  is  something  so  with 
regard  to  my  theological  intolerance.  For  instance, 
I have  given  yearly  to  the  American  Missionary  As- 
sociation, ever  since  emancipation,  twenty  dollars  a 
year,  to  help  them  support  a teacher  among  the  freed- 
men,  true  blue  orthodox.  Yet  when  I proposed  to 
them  to  aid  me  in  the  circulation  of  my  “ Freed- 
men’s  Book,”  offering  them  several  hundred  volumes 
at  the  mere  cost  of  materials,  they  were  not  willing 
to  do  it  unless  they  could  be  allowed  to  cut  out 
several  articles,  and  in  lieu  thereof  insert  orthodox 
tracts  about  “ redeeming  blood,”  etc.  Yet  my  book 
contained  not  one  sectarian'  word,  except  here  and 
there  an  orthodox  phrase  in  articles  written  by  col- 
ored people.  I do  sincerely  believe  that  all  creeds 
which  make  faith  in  doctrines  of  more  importance 
than  the  practice  of  morality  have  an  injurious  effect 
on  character,  and  I abominate  them. 

One  of  my  neighbors  told  me  there  was  a bio- 
graphical sketch  of  me  in  the  “ Christian  Register,” 
copied  from  the  “ Chicago  Tribune.”  But  I did  not 
wish  to  see  it,  having  a great  aversion  to  newspaper 
publicity.  I care  a good  deal  what  my  friends  think 
of  my  performances,  but  I am  singularly  indifferent 


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to  notices  of  the  press.  They  are  so  indiscriminate, 
and  so  much  done  up  in  a spirit  of  trade  between 
publishers  and  editors,  that  they  have  little  value. 
I do  not  see  the  “Westminster  Review,”  but  I care 
very  little  about  being  “ respectfully  cited  ” in  it. 
The  same  honor  befalls  hundreds  below  the  level 
of  mediocrity.  I think  few  things  are  more  incon- 
venient and  disagreeable  than  being  a “ small  ” lion. 
One  loses  the  advantage  of  complete  obscurity,  with- 
out attaining  to  the  advantages  of  great  fame.  If 
what  I have  written  has  been  the  means  of  doing  any 
good  in  the  world,  I am  thankful ; but  as  for  per- 
sonal gratification  in  receiving,  as  a lion,  what  you 
call  “ the  homage  of  smaller  animals,”  I have  none. 
All  I want  is  to  be  left  in  peace  to  do  quietly  the 
work  wdiich  my  hands  find  to  do. 

I agree  with  you  in  thinking  that  there  are  many 
good  things  in  the  article,  “ New  Chapter  of  Christian 
Evidences,”  in  the  “ Atlantic.”  But  if  Christianity 
is,  as  the  writer  says,  better  adapted  for  a universal 
religion  than  any  other,  is  it  not  simply  because 
Christianity  is  an  accretion  of  all  the  antecedent  re- 
ligious aspirations  of  mankind  ? How  many  rivulets 
of  thought  had  been  flowing  from  various  parts  of 
the  world,  and  through  continuous  ages,  all  drawn 
toward  each  other  by  the  extension  of  the  Roman 
Empire  ! And  in  the  midst  of  those  gathering  tides 
stood  Paul ! He  was  the  man,  by  whose  agency  a 
Jewish  reformation  was  widened  into  a world-religion. 
All  the  world  being  represented  in  the  system,  it  may. 
well  be  better  adapted  for  a universal  religion  than 
any  of  its  component  parts.  But  it  is  still  receiving 
accretions  from  present  inspirations,  and  so  it  will  go 
on.  Swedenborg  has  not  established  a '‘\new  church,” 


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203 


but  he  has  greatly  modified  the  old  one.  I opine 
that  Paul  would  recognize  in  the  teachings  of  our 
day  few  of  the  distinctive  features  of  Christianity  as 
it  presented  itself  to  his  mind.  It  is  curious  to  read 
the  sermons  that  were  admired  a hundred  years  ago, 
and  compare  them  with  the  preaching  of  the  present 
day.  What  congregations  would  now  be  edified  by 
the  thunder  of  those  old  guns  of  the  Gospel  ? There 
is  not  a parish  that  would  hear  them  as  “ candidates.” 

TO  THE  SAME. 

Wayland,  1869. 

I wish  you  joy  of  your  “ new  Greek  grammar.”  I 
eschew  all  grammars,  because  I cannot  receive  their 
contents  by  intuition.  Perhaps  if  you  were  to  con- 
fine your  investigation  to  the  Greek  article,  you 
would  find  it  more  “ entertaining,  ’ but  still  the  re- 
sult might  not  be  satisfactory.  I have  read  of  a 
German  philologist  who  expended  the  diligent  labor 
of  a long  life  on  the  study  of  the  Greek  article,  and 
on  his  deathbed  he  said  to  his  son,  “ Take  warning  by 
my  example.  Do  not  undertake  too  much.  I ought 
to  have  confined  myself  to  the  dative  case.” 

I cordially  agree  with  the  praises  of  “ Unspoken 
Sermons.”  They  are  the  only  kind  that  interest  me. 

I was  amused  by  the  prematureness  of  Aggy  ; but 
of  all  the  children  I ever  heard  of,  Susan  L ’s  eld- 

est daughter  has  manifested  the  most  precocious  fore- 
cast. When  she  was  about  six  years  old,  her  father, 
in  reading  the  newspaper  aloud,  read  of  a workman  in 
a manufactory  whose  arm  had  been  shockingly  torn 
by  the  machinery.  They  did  not  suppose  the  little 
one  understood  it,  or  took  any  notice  of  it,  but  when 
she  was  put  to  bed  she  began  to  cry  bitterly.  When 


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her  mother  asked  what  was  the  matter,  she  burst  out 
vehemently,  “ Oh,  what  if  I should  marry  a machine 
man  ? What  should  I do  ? ” “ Don’t  cry  about 

that,  dear,”  replied  her  mother,  trying  to  repress 
laughter,  “ Perhaps  you  won’t  be  married.”  “ Oh 
yes  I shall ! ” exclaimed  the  little  Mary  (who  ought 
to  have  been  named  the  little  Martha)  ; “ They  will 
marry  me  to  a machine  man  ; and  then,  if  he  tears 
his  arm,  I sha’n’t  know  what  to  do.”  She  is  now 
fifteen  or  sixteen,  and  is  always  betraying  the  same 
forecasting  tendencies.  She  has  learned  to  swim,  and 
is  very  expert  in  the  water.  A little  while  ago  she 
swam  up  to  a child  on  the  bank  of  the  river  and 
said,  “ Please  get  on  my  back,  and  let  me  carry  you 
across.  I want  to  see  if  I could  save  you,  if  we  should 
be  aboard  the  same  ship  and  get  wrecked.”  The 
child  consented,  and  Mary  was  exultant  to  find  that 
she  could  swim  with  such  a burden. 


TO  THE  SAME. 


1870. 

Mrs.  J , the  author  of  “ Linda,”  spent  a couple 

of  nights  here  a few  weeks  ago.  She  told  me  one 
little  anecdote  which  reminded  me  of  the  Puritan  sol- 
diers of  old.  Sbe  said  that  one  day,  during  the  war, 
she  was  gathering  vegetables  in  the  garden  of  the 
hospital  where  she  was  nursing  the  wounded.  A 
soldier  passed  by,  and  seeing  some  roses  in  bloom  he 
said,  “ Auntie,  will  you  give  me  a rose  ? ” Mrs. 

J was  sensitive  about  being  called  Auntie,  that 

being  the  universal  way  of  addressing  middle-aged 
slaves.  So  she  answered,  “ I will  give  you  some  roses 
with  all  my  heart,  for  I am  always  willing  to  give 
anything  to  a soldier  of  the  United  States.  But  I am 


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205 


not  your  auntie ; your  mother  was  not  my  sister.” 
“ Was  n’t  she,  though  ? ” rejoined  the  soldier.  You ’d 
better  ask  General  Christ  about  that.  He  was  a great 
general,  and  I guess  he  would  say  that  your  mother 
was  my  mother’s  sister.  My  mother  is  a good  woman. 
If  you  knew  her,  you  would  love  her.”  Beautiful, 
was  it  not  ? 


TO  FRANCIS  G.  SHAW. 

Wayland,  1870. 

I thank  you  cordially  for  “ M.  Sylvestre.”  It  is 
charmingly  translated,  in  that  free,  flowing  way 
that  makes  it  seem  as  if  it  were  written  in  English. 
It  is  far  less  exciting  than  “ Consuelo  ” was,  but  it 
is  very  attractive,  full  of  serene  wisdom  and  gleams 
of  simple  beauty.  I never  can  believe  that  George 
Sand  is  so  debased  and  impure  as  many  represent  her 
to  be.  She  may  have  committed  grave  errors,  but  I 
think  they  must  have  proceeded  from  the  restless 
yearnings  of  unsatisfied  affections,  and  the  pursuit  of 
an  ideal  which  she  could  not  find,  rather  than  from 
unbridled  sensuality.  A woman  of  impure  soul 
might  write  elaborate  sentences  in  praise  of  virtue, 
but  I deem  it  impossible  for  such  a woman  to  write 
books  that  breathe  such  pure  aspirations  as  many  of 
hers  do.  And  even  her  very  worst  ones,  are  they  not 
true  pictures  of  life  as  she  has  seen  it  in  that  false, 
corrupted  France  ? And  is  it  not  the  sincerity  of 
her  nature,  rather  than  any  delight  in  uncleanness, 
which  makes  it  impossible  for  her  to  gloss  over  the 
corruptions  which  she  sees  all  around  her?  Some 
people  are  so  constituted  that  they  must  “ tell  the 
truth,  and  shame  the  Devil.”  Then  again,  admitting 
that  George  Sand  has  been  as  licentious  as  some  say. 


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LETTERS. 


is  it  quite  just  to  condemn  her  and  her  writings  as 
irredeemably  bad,  while  Burns’s  poems  are  in  every 
family,  and  the  anniversaries  of  his  birthday  are  kept 
as  if  they  were  festivals  in  honor  of  a saint  ? 

TO  MISS  HENRIETTA  SARGENT. 

1870. 

I promised  to  send  you  the  lines  I wrote  about 
George  Thompson  in  1835.  Here  they  are.  Perhaps 
they  will  recall  to  you  the  feelings  with  which  you 
used  to  listen  to  him  in  those  old  stirring  times. 

I ’ve  heard  thee  when  thy  powerful  words 
Were  like  the  cataract’s  roar, 

Or  like  the  ocean’s  mighty  waves 

Resounding  on  the  shore.  ‘ 


But,  even  in  reproof  of  sin. 

Love  brooded  over  all. 

As  the  mild  rainbow’s  heavenly  arch 
Rests  on  the  waterfall. 

I ’ve  heard  thee  in  the  hour  of  prayer, 
When  dangers  were  around  ; 

Thy  voice  was  like  the  royal  harp. 

That  breathed  a charmed  sound. 

The  evil  spirit  felt  its  power. 

And  howling  turned  away  ; 

And  some,  perchance,  who  “ came  to  scoff. 
Remained  with  thee  to  pray.” 

I ’ve  seen  thee,  too,  in  playful  mood. 
When  words  of  magic  spell 

Dropped  from  thy  lips  like  fairy  gems, 
That  sparkled  as  they  fell. 


LETTERS. 


207 


Still  great  and  good  in  every  change, 
Magnificent  and  mild, 

As  if  a seraph’s  godlike  power 
Dwelt  in  a little  child. 

TO  CHARLES  SUMNER. 

Watland,  1870. 

Dear  and  honored  Mr.  Sumner,  — If  I were  to 
write  to  you  every  time  the  spirit  moves  me  to  thank 
you  for  some  good  thing  you  have  done,  you  would 
have  a very  voluminous  correspondence.  I lay  the 
flattering  unction  to  my  soul  that  I am  a very  en- 
lightened statesman,  and  my  reasons  for  forming 
such  a high  opinion  of  myself  are,  that  whenever  I 
arrive  at  conclusions  on  any  subjects  which  have  oc- 
cupied my  mind,  you  are  always  sure  to  indorse  my 
views.  Many  a time,  after  reading  your  speeches  or 
debates  aloud,  I have  exclaimed,  “ There  it  is  again  ! 
You  see  Mr.  Sumner  says  just  what  I have  been  hop- 
ing and  expecting  he  would  say.”  I differ  from  you 
often  enough,  however,  to  prove  that  my  soul  is  my 
own. 

In  your  speech  you  say,  “ The  oppressiveness  of  a 
tax  is  not  to  be  measured  by  the  insensibility  of  the 
people  on  whose  shoulders  it  is  laid.  It  is  a curiosity 
of  depotism  that  the  people  are  too  often  unconscious 
of  their  slavery,  as  they  are  also  unconscious  of  bad 
laws.  A wise  and  just  government  measures  its  du- 
ties, not  by  what  the  people  will  bear  without  a mur- 
mur, but  bj^  what  is  most  for  their  welfare.” 

My  dear  Mr.  Sumner,  is  not  the  same  remark  ap- 
plicable to  the  assertion  that  the  elective  franchise 
ought  not  to  be  bestowed  on  women  until  the  major- 
ity of  them  demand  it  ? I have  been  often  urged  to 


208 


LETTERS. 


write  to  you  on  what  is  called  the  “Woman  Ques- 
tion,” but  I have  foreborne,  because  I thought  your 
shoulders  (strong  and  willing  as  they  are)  were  al- 
ready loaded  with  sufficient  weight.  Moreover,  when 
I have  perfect  confidence  in  the  moral  and  intellect- 
ual insight  of  a man,  I am  not  desirous  to  hurry  his 
conclusions.  You  are  so  organized  that  you  cannot 
help  following  princij^les,  wheresoever  they  may  lead ; 
and,  sooner  or  later,  you  will  see  clearly  that  our  re- 
publican ideas  cannot  be  consistently  carried  out 
while  women  are  excluded  from  any  share  in  the  gov- 
ernment. I reduce  the  argument  to  very  simple  ele- 
ments. I pay  taxes  Jor  property  of  my  own  earning 
and  saving,  and  I do  not  believe  in  ‘‘  taxation  with- 
out representation.”  As  for  representation  by  proxy, 
that  savors  too  much  of  the  plantation-system,  how- 
ever kind  the  master  may  be.  I am  a human  being ; 
and  every  human  being  has  a right  to  a voice  in  the 
laws  which  claim  authority  to  tax  him,  to  imprison 
him,  or  to  hang  him.  The  exercise  of  rights  always 
has  a more  salutary  effect  on  character  than  the  en- 
joyment of  privileges.  Any  class  of  human  beings 
to  whom  a position  of  perpetual  subordination  is  as- 
signed, however  much  they  may  be  petted  and  flat- 
tered, must  inevitably  be  dwarfed,  morally  and  in- 
tellectually. 

But  I will  not  enlarge  on  the  theme.  For  forty 
years  I have  keenly  felt  my  limitations  as  a woman, 
and  have  submitted  to  them  under  perpetual  and  in- 
dignant protest.  It  is  too  late  for  the  subject  to  be 
of  much  interest  to  me  personally.  I have  walked  in 
fetters  all  ni}^  pilgrimage,  and  now  I have  but  little 
farther  to  go.  But  I see  so  clearly  that  domestic 
and  public  life  would  be  so  much  ennobled  by  the 


LETTERS. 


209 


perfect  equality  and  companionship  of  men  and 
women  in  all  tile  departments  of  life,  that  I long  to 
see  it  accomplished,  for  the  order  and  well-being  of 
the  world. 

TO  MISS  LUCY  OSGOOD. 

1870. 

You  say  you  sometimes  think  we  should  “ be 
greatly  strengthened  if  we  could  be  sure  of  a real  bond 
fide  ‘ Thus  saith  the  Lord.’  ” I don’t  think  so.  If  it 
had  been  good  for  us.  Divine  Providence  would  have 
so  ordered  it.  It  is  obviously  a part  of  his  plan  that 
we  should  work  our  own  passage  through  in  the  dark- 
ness, or  rather  by  the  far-off  gleam  of  a few  guiding 
stars,  and  it  seems  to  me  that  in  no  other  way  could 
we  become  educated  for  a higher  plane  of  existence. 
You  are  mainly  anxious  for  this  bond  fide  revelation 
on  account  of  the  ignorant  masses,  which  you  think 
“ need  to  lean  on  authority.”  You  need  not  be  con- 
cerned on  that  score,  my  friend.  Just  so  long  as  the 
multitude  need  to  believe  that  Jesus  was  God,  they 
will  believe  it.  You  and  I could  n’t  take  that  faith 
from  them  while  it  was  a necessity  of  their  souls, 
even  if  we  wished  to  do  it.  Divine  Providence  takes 
care  that  neither  the  old  material  nor  spiritual  skin 
shall  fall  off  till  a new  one  has  formed  under  it.  All 
that  any  of  us  have  to  do  is  to  follow,  fearlessly  and 
faithfully,  the  light  within  our  own  souls.  In  no 
other  way  can  the  individual  so  help  the  race. 

I doubtless  have  “ more  confidence  in  the  common 
mind  ” than  you  have.  I think  I have  historical 
ground  for  the  confidence.  Scientific  progress  begins 
with  the  educated  ; spiritual  progress  always  origi- 
nates with  the  unlearned.  Look  at  Jesus  and  his 
fishermen  ; at  Luther  and  his  peasant  followers.  The 

14 


210 


LETTERS. 


scholars  and  the  gentry  of  England  would  never  have 
abolished  slaveiy.  It  was  the  mass  of  working-peo- 
ple that  compelled  government  to  take  that  great  step 
in  human  progress  ; and  the  movement  has  a similar 
history  in  this  country. 

TO  JOHN  G.  WHITTIER. 

Wayland,  January  10,  1871. 

I thank  you,  from  my  heart,  for  your  volume  of 
beautiful  poems,  and  for  the  kind  inscription.  But 
what  is  the  world  coming  to  when  a plain-coated 
Friend  dates  “ Christmas  ” instead  of  Twelfth  Month  ? 
If  thou  departest  from  the  ancient  testimonies  in  this 
way,  friend  John,  thou  wilt  assuredly  be  dealt  with. 
I am  very  indifferent  to  anything  the  world  can  give, 
either  its  pleasures  or  its  honors ; and  I am  very  little 
prone  to  envy,  but  I do  envy  you  your  wide-spread 
popularity,  because  it  furnishes  you  with  such  ample 
means  to  scatter  abroad  the  living  seeds  of  goodness 
and  truth.  Thanks  to  the  Heavenly  Father,  that  the 
great  opportunity  fell  into  hands  that  used  it  so  con- 
scientiously and  so  industriously  ! For  myself,  I can- 
not accomplish  much  ; but  I will  try  to  deserve  the 
acknowledgment,  “ She  hath  done  what  she  could.” 

One  of  my  old-time  friends  sent  me,  for  a New 
Year’s  present,  a book  on  Siam,  by  an  English  lady 
who  was  for  several  years  governess  there,  in  the 
king’s  family.^  I found  it  extremely  interesting.  I 
have  long  felt  that  we  Christians  greatly  wronged  the 
Buddhists.  The  precepts  of  Buddha  are  wonderfully 
large  and  holy.  Whoever  he  was,  he  was  a man  that 
dwelt  near  unto  God.  His  religion  is  overrun  with 

An  English  Governess  at  the  Siamese  Court,  by  Mrs.  A.  H.  Leono- 
wens.  Boston,  1870. 


LETTERS. 


211 


superstitions  and  ceremonies,  but  I doubt  whether  it  is 
more  so  than  the  religion  of  Jesus  in  that  very  large 
part  of  Christendom  where  the  Roman  Catholic 
Church  is  established.  Those  who  have  not  ex- 
amined into  it  curiously,  as  I have,  are  not  aware 
how  small  a part  of  Christianity  really  emanated 
from  Jesus  or  his  apostles.  ' It  is  a fact  that  troubles 
me  not  at  all.  If  a truth  is  clear  in  my  own  soul,  I 
care  not  that  it  has  appeared  to  others  in  manifold 
varying  aspects.  I recognize  and  reverence  an  eter- 
nal principle,  whatsoever  garb  it  wears.  What  mat- 
ters it  that  the  good  and  the  true  come  to  us  through 
a foreign  faith  ? 

' “ Since  everywhere  the  Spirit  walks 

The  garden  of  the  heart,  and  talks 
With  man,  as  under  Eden’s  trees. 

In  all  his  varied  languages.” 

Thank  you  for  that  broad  lesson.  You  are  bring- 
ing precious  stones  to  build  up  the  great  church  of 
the  future,  the  church  of  the  All-Father.  May  his 
blessing  be  with  you  now  and  forever  ! 

TO  MISS  LUCY  OSGOOD. 

Wayland,  1871. 

I wish  I had  known  when  your  eightieth  birthday 
was.  I would  have  made  a fuss  on  the  occasion,  I 
assure  you.  I have  often  been  tempted  to  ask  when 
your  birthday  was,  but  I always  remembered  what 
were  your  sister’s  first  words  when  I called  to  see  her 
after  she  had  her  fall : “ Now  don’t  go  to  muching 
me ! I don’t  like  to  be  muched.”  I had  an  idea  that 
you  shared  her  aversion  to  being  “ muched,”  and  so 
I concluded  to  let  your  birthday  slide.  I dare  say, 
after  all,  that  you  were  rather  pleased  with  having 


212 


LETTERS. 


the  anniversary  marked  by  so  many  kindly  memori- 
als. For  my  part  I am  delighted  to  find  a few  flow- 
ers on  the  mile-stones  as  I pass  along.  No  matter  how 
simple  they  are ; a buttercup  is  as  good  as  a japonica; 
somebody  placed  it  there  who  remembered  I was  go- 
ing  by,  and  that  is  sufficient. 

What  a blessing  it  was  for  that  dear  good  man, 
S.  J.  May,  to  pass  away  in  the  full  possession  of  his 
faculties,  and  surrounded  by  such  an  atmosphere  of 
love  and  blessing.  Friend  Whittier,  writing  to  me 
the  other  day,  says  : “ How  many  sweet  and  precious 
memories  I have  of  my  intercourse  with  him  ! Where 
is  he  now  ? What  is  he  doing  and  thinking  ? Ah 
me ! we  beat  in  vain  against  the  doors  of  that  secret 
of  God  ! But  I am  so  certain  of  God’s  infinite  good- 
ness and  love,  that  I think  I can  trust  myself,  and  all 
I hold  dear,  to  his  love  and  care.” 

TO  THE  SAME. 

1872. 

Speaking  of  women,  is  it  not  wonderful  how  all 
the  world  seems  to  be  moving  on  that  question  ? 
Did  you  notice  that  the  Pasha  of  Egypt  has  estab- 
lished a school  for  girls  at  Cairo  ? What  is  more,  he 
compels  the  officials  of  his  government  to  send  their 
daughters  for  two  years,  to  be  instructed  on  Euro- 
pean subjects  after  the  European  manner.  After 
that,  he  stipulates  that  the  girls  shall  be  left  free  to 
choose  whether  they  will  veil  themselves  again  and 
return  to  their  former  Egyptian  modes  of  life,  or  not. 
Among  the  Mohammedans  is  a sect  called  The  Bab, 
meaning  The  Gate,  or  Door.  It  appears  to  be  a door 
that  opens  easily,  for  it  is  very  courteous  about  let- 
ting in  other  religions,  and  urges  that  women  should 


LETTERS. 


213 


be  educated  and  go  about  as  freely  as  men.  The  Bra^ 
ma-Soinadj  is  pleading  for  the  similar  emancipation 
and  enlightenment  of  Hindoo  women.  Assuredly,  the 
Millerites  will  have  to  wait  a while.  The  world  can- 
not be  destroyed  just  yet ; there  is  too  much  going 
on  that  needs  to  be  completed. 

I saw  some  extracts  from  Father  Taylor’s  Biogra- 
phy in  the  papers.  I was  much  amused  with  his  an- 
swer to  his  nurse,  when  she  sought  to  comfort  him 
by  saying,  “ You  will  soon  be  with  the  angels.” 
“What  do  I care  about  angels  ! ” he  exclaimed  ; “ I 
want  to  be  with  folks.”  That  was  a real  outburst  of 
nature. 

TO  MRS.  s.  B.  SHAW. 

Wayland,  1872. 

I wanted  to  write  a hurrah  as  soon  as  it  was  certain 
the  ship  of  state  had  safely  passed  that  coalition 
snag,^  but  was  prevented  from  time  to  time.  Then 
came  that  awful  fire  in  Boston,  and  put  one  out  of 
the  mood  of  hurrahing.  But  that  conflagration,  terri- 
ble as  it  was,  was  not  so  disastrous  as  would  have 
been  the  restoration  of  Democrats  and  rebels  to  power. 
And  not  only  have  we  cause  for  congratulation  that 
a present  danger  is  escaped,  but  we  have  reason  to  be 
devoutly  thankful  for  this  new  proof  that  the  people 
are  capable  of  self-government. 

About  the  Society  for  the  Prevention  of  Cruelty 
to  Animals,  you  and  I,  as  usual,  agree.  I have  taken 
a lively  interest  in  it,  and  have  been  a member  of  the 
Boston  society  from  the  beginning.  I have  not  made 
up  my  mind  about  the  Darwinian  theory,  but  I have 
long  felt  that  man  does  not  sufficiently  recognize  his 

1 Referring  to  President  Grant’s  reelection. 


214 


LETTERS. 


kindred  with  animals.  If  they  were  tenderly  and 
rationally  treated  from  their  birth,  I believe  it  would 
make  a vast  change  in  the  development  of  their  fac- 
ulties and  feelings.  1 believe  the  principal  reason 
why  Arabian  horses  are  so  celebrated  for  intelligence 
and  docility  is  that  the  Arab  lives  with  his  horse  as 
with  a companion  and  friend.  I hope  this  wide- 
spread horse-distemper  ^ will  make  men  more  thought- 
ful about  the  comfort  of  their  horses ; having  learned 
the  great  inconvenience  of  doing  without  them. 

TO  MISS  LUCY  OSGOOD. 

1873. 

I wish  to  see  Samuel  Johnson’s  book,^  and  I thank 
you  for  the  offer  to  send  it  to  me.  I will  write  11th 
of  February  in  it,  and  put  it  among  my  birthday 
offerings.  It  is  very  true  that  a philosophic  religion 
is  fit  for  philosophers  only,  but  all  that  each  individ- 
ual has  to  do  is  to  follow  the  truth  as  far  as  he  sees 
it,  without  assuming  that  his  boundary  is  necessarily 
the  end  of  the  universe.  I opine  that  we  have  noth- 
ing to  do  with  the  question  whether  the  views  that 
seem  to  us  true  can  meet  the  wants  of  the  “ ignorant, 
silly,  sensuous,  suffering  masses.”  It  is  our  business 
to  seek  truth  reverentially,  and  utter  it  frankly,  leav- 
ing it  to  its  mission  of  educating  “ the  masses  ” to  a 
higher  stand-point.  It  is  never  safe  to  look  outside 
and  calculate  consequences  in  forming  our  estimate 
of  any  truths.  What  a muddy  medley  they  made  of 
Christianity  by  grafting  upon  it  one  superstition 

1 The  epizootic  epidemic  then  prevailing  in  all  the  large  cities  of 
the  United  States. 

2 Oriental  Religions  and  their  Relation  to  Universal  Religion.  By 
Samuel  Johnson.  Boston,  1873. 


LETTERS.  , 


215 


which  was  important  to  the  Jewish  converts,  another 
to  the  Greek,  another  to  the  Scandinavian,  and  so 
on  ! The  Italian  peasant  woman  is  doubtless  com- 
forted by  praying  to  a doll  dressed  up  in  tinsel,  which 
she  worships  as  the  “ Mother  of  God.”  I would  not, 
if  I had  the  power,  make  it  illegal  for  her  to  comfort 
herself  in  that  way ; but  shall  I refrain  from  philo- 
sophic utterance,  lest  it  should  make  her  doll  fall  out 
of  its  shrine  ? The  doll  will  not  and  cannot  fall,  so 
long  as  the  “ ignorant,  sensual,  suffering  masses  ” 
have  need  of  her.  The  work  that  needs  to  be  done 
is  to  bring  the  world  into  such  a state  of  order  that 
there  will  be  no  “ ignorant,  sensual,  sutfering  masses,” 
and  consequently  no  further  use  for  consecrated  dolls. 
Meanwhile,  let  them  comfort  themselves  with  their 
dolls.  It  is  the  business  of  grown  people  to  lead 
children  gently  away  from  the  necessity  for  toys.  It 
is  a long  time  since  principles  were  all  that  com- 
manded my  implicit  faith  and  reverence.  Some 
would  say  regretfully  that  I believed  less  than  for- 
merly ; but  in  my  inmost  soul  I know  that  I believe 
more. 

TO  THE  SAME. 

Watland,  1873. 

New  Year’s  Day  shone  very  brightly  out  of  heaven. 
A fine  mist  had  frozen  on  the  trees,  and  made  them 
look  like  great  chandeliers  of  crystallization  sparkling 
in  the  clear  blue  sky.  What  can  Alpine  regions  fur- 
nish more  beautiful  than  this  scene  of  fair^^  splendor? 
I thought  of  you  and  of  the  little  feet  that  would  be 
trotting  through  the  snow  to  see  what  Miss  Osgood 
had  provided  for  them.  They  read  of  fairies  that 
disguise  themselves  like  old  women,  though  they  are 
in  reality  young  and  beautiful,  and  have  all  n.anner 


216 


LETTERS. 


of  flowers  and  jewels  that  they  can  shake  out  of  their 
mantles  when  they  choose.  I should  n’t  wonder  if 
the  Medford  little  folks  suspected  you  of  being  one  of 
those  rich  and  beneficent  beings,  and  would  be  on  the 
look-out  to  catch  a glimpse  of  your  hidden  rainbow- 
wings  some  day.  I hope  you  and  they  had  a pleasant 
time  as  usual.  I devote  my  New  Year’s  attentions 
to  old  folks.  Two  of  the  eight  for  whom  I always 
try  to  do  something  pleasant  on  that  anniversary 
have  passed  away  since  that  season  last  came  round. 
My  protegees  are  likely  to  diminish  while  yours  will 
increase ; but  I have  fewer  competitors  in  my  depart- 
ment, and  I find  that  the  old  are  as  much  pleased  by 
presents  and  tokens  of  remembrance  as  children  are. 

TO  FRANCIS  G.  SHAW. 

^Vayland,  1873. 

Very  hearty,  though  somewhat  tardy,  thanks  for 
your  beautiful  present  at  the  close  of  the  year.  I 
feasted  my  eyes  on  the  binding,  so  orientally  gorgeous, 
yet  so  tasteful.  The  very  colors  are  appropriate ; 
black  and  gold  and  that  tawny  red.  I shall  not  live 
to  see  the  universally  acknowledged  brotherhood  of 
the  human  race,  but  I rejoice  over  the  ever-increasing 
indication  of  tendencies  toward  such  a result ; among 
which  the  mission  of  Mrs.  Leonowens  is  very  signifi- 
cant. The  book,  though  unavoidably  painful  in  some 
respects,  was  very  fascinating  to  me.  I read  it  right 
through,  every  word.  How  the  proclamations  of  the 
young  King  of  Siam  concerning  the  abolition  of  slav- 
ery and  the  brotherhood  of  religions  thrilled  through 
me ! God  bless  him  ! I want  to  send  him  some- 
thing. And  those  tender-hearted  women  of  the  ha- 
rem whose  hearts  melted  over  ‘‘  Uncle  Tom’s  Cabin,” 


LETTERS. 


217 


and  whose  reyerence  was  bestowed  both  on  Jesus  and 
Buddha,  because  they  recognized  a tender  self-sacri- 
ficing spirit  in  both  ! Those  women  are  not  degraded 
by  polygamy  as  we  should  be,  simply  because  they 
are  not  conscious  of  degradation.  Some  one  said 
very  wisely,  “ How  unlike  in  character  is  the  naked- 
ness of  a courtesan  and  the  nakedness  of  a savage  ! ” 
There  are  no  gardens  of  the  human  soul  anywhere  so 
neglected  that  God  has  not  placed  in  them  “flaming 
cherubims  that  turn  every  way  to  guard  the  Tree  of 
Life.” 

Did  Mrs.  Leonowens’s  first  book  ever  reach  Siam  ? 
If  so,  has  she  ever  heard  how  it  was  received?  I 
judge  that  the  young  king’s  desire  to  emulate  Presi- 
dent Lincoln  must  have  been  in  a good  degree  owing 
•to  her  influence,  though  she  very  modestly  says  noth- 
ing about  it.  What  a blessing  to  be  able  to  carry 
light  into  dark  corners  of  the  world,  and  then  see 
from  afar  how  the  little  candle  spreads  its  rays  ! 
Christian  missionaries  might  have  done  much  to 
modify  the  laws  and  customs  of  all  the  world,  if  they 
had  only  been  less  theological.  . . . 

It  sometimes  seems  rather  hard  that  I should  be  so 
entirely  shut  out  from  all  intellectual  intercourse,  but 
I don’t  know  how  to  arrange  it  otherwise,  consistently 
with  the  discharge  of  my  duty.  It  is  not  “ eccentric- 
ity,” as  many  people  call  it ; it  is  owing  to  peculiar 
circumstances  not  of  my  own  creating,  and  which  my 
energy  and  caution  are  powerless  to  change.  No- 
body could  understand  it  unless  they  had  experienced 
it.  But  I have  many,  many  blessings  ; the  chiefest 
of  which  are  the  dear  friends  I have.  God  bless  them 
for  illuminating  and  cheering  my  life  as  they  have 
done. 


218 


LETTERS. 


TO  THE  SAME. 

Wayland,  1873. 

I thank  you  cordially  for  the  Diana,  which  is  full 
of  life  and  spirit.  Spiritually,  it  is  far  inferior  to 
the  Venus  of  Milo,  but  it  has  an  all-alive  physical 
beauty  which  is  charming'  Thank  you,  also,  for  the 
bas-relief  from  Thorwaldsen.  The  little  heads  are  de- 
lightfully child-like,  but  to  my  eye  their  perpendicu- 
lar position  conveys  an  idea  of  walking  on  the  clouds, 
rather  than  that  of  floating,  or  flying.  As  I never  ex- 
pect to  see  any  of  the  galleries  of  sculpture,  it  is  a 
great  treat  to  me  to  form  a small  stereoscopic  gallery 
of  my  own,  which,  with  the  aid  of  imagination,  is 
almost  like  seeiiip;  the  originals. 

I agree  with  you  that  there  are  portions  of  the 
Old  Testament  too  devout  and  sublime  to  be  omitted 
in  any  Bible  for  the  human  soul.  But  I do  not  re- 
member anything  in  the  New  Testament  so  demoral- 
izing as  Lot  and  his  daughters,  Noah’s  drunkenness, 
Jacob’s  dishonest  trickery,  and  David’s  conduct  to 
Uriah.  I believe  the  constant  reading  of  such  mon- 
strous things,  as  sacred  writ,  from  God  himself,  has 
done  much  more  to  unsettle  the  moral  principles  of 
mankind  than  is  generall}^  supposed. 

TO  MRS.  S.  B.  SHAW. 

Wayland,  1873. 

As  for  the  poor  Indians,  would  to  heaven  they  had 
education  and  newspapers  to  tell  their  side  of  the 
story  ! The  pages  you  inclosed  scarcely  give  a 
glimpse  of  the  real  facts  that  caused  the  Seminole 
war.  The  Seminoles  were  adopting  civilized  modes 
of  life.  They  were  devoting  themselves  to  agricul- 


LETTERS. 


219 


ture,  and  bad  established  a friendly  relation  with 
their  neighbors.  But  the  slave-holders  of  Georgia 
wanted  to  drive  them  out,  because  they  coveted  their 
lands,  and  still  more  because  their  slaves  were  prone 
to  take  refuge  with  them.  This  had  been  going  on 
for  generations,  and  the  fugitives  had  largely  inter- 
married with  the  Indians.  The  slave-holders  not  only 
claimed  their  slaves  that  had  escaped,  but  their  chil- 
dren and  grandchildren  and  great-great-grandchildren, 
on  the  ground  that  ‘‘the  child  follows  the  condition 
of  the  mother.”  It  was  to  satisfy  them  that  Jackson 
got  up  the  war.  It  was  not  Osceola’s  wife  and  chil- 
dren only  that  were  seized  and  carried  into  slavery. 
Multitudes  of  their  wives  and  children  were  carried 
off  ; and  you  may  easily  conjecture  that  no  very  nice 
care  was  always  taken  to  ascertain  whether  they  had 
descended  from  slaves  in  the  United  States  or  not. 
The  pages  you  send  contain  the  cool  remark  that 
“ the  seizure  of  Osceola’s  beautiful  wife  was  an  un- 
fortunate affair.”  God  of  heaven  grant  me  patience  ! 
What  would  he  call  it  if  the  Indians  had  seized  and 
carried  off  his  beautiful  wife,  to  sell  her  in  the  mar- 
ket for  a mistress.  I hope  the  writer  is  no  relation 
of  yours,  for  I have  a vehement  desire  to  cuff  his 
ears.  As  for  the  Seminoles  not  removing  after  they 
had  by  treaty  agreed  to,  I do  not  know  the  real  facts 
of  the  case ; but  this  I do  know,  that  General  Jack- 
son  was  in  the  habit  of  making  nominal  treaties  with 
any  Indians  who  could  be  brought  by  grog  to  sign  a 
paper,  which  was  forthwith  declared  to  be  an  official 
treaty  concluded  with  the  government  of  the  tribe. 
Just  the  same  as  if  the  government  of  France  or 
England  should  enter  into  negotiations  with  General 
Butler,  or  Boss  Tweed,  and  then  claim  that  the  ar- 


220 


LETTERS. 


rangement  was  binding  on  the  government  of  the 
United  States. 

General  Grant  has  disappointed  me.  His  Indian 
policy  looked  candid  and  just  on  paper  ; but  he  does 
not  seem  to  have  taken  adequate  care  that  it  should  be 
carried  out.  The  Modocs  have  formerly  had  a good 
name  as  peaceable  neiglibors  ; but  they  have  been 
driven  from  place  to  place,  and  finally  pushed  into  a 
barren  corner,  where  the  soil  did  not  admit  of  their 
raising  sufficient  for  a subsistence.  They  were  driven 
to  desperation  by  starvation,  and  wearied  out  with 
promises  that  were  never  fulfilled.  Poor  Captain  Jack 
said,  “ To  die  by  bullets  not  hurt  much  ; but  it  hurts 
a heap  to  die  by  hunger.”  I regret  the  barbarities  of 
Captain  Jack,  but  not  more  than  I regret  the  barbar- 
ities of  Phil.  Sheridan.  I look  upon  Osceola  and 
Captain  Jack  both  as  worthy  of  an  historical  place  in 
the  list  of  heroes  that  have  died  for  their  oppressed 
peoples.  But  I may  as  well  stop  writing  on  this 
theme,  for  it  is  a hopeless  task  to  try  to  delineate 
the  “general  cussedness”  of  governments.  It  is  a 
strange  thing,  but  it  seems  impossible  to  convince 
politicians  that  it  is  not  “ visionary  ” to  be  guided 
by  correct  principles  in  the  administration  of  affairs. 
Their  idea  is,  the  greater  the  indirectness  and  the 
double  dealing,  the  greater  the  statesmanship.  Yet, 
all  the  time,  they  make  loud  professions  of  following 
the  teaching  of  him  who  said,  “Let  your  yea  be  yea, 
and  your  nay,  nay.”  Oh,  Sarah,  I am  so  tired  of 
shams  ! It  is  very  inconvenient  to  be  habitually  di- 
rect, in  such  a world  of  indirectness. 

I pitied  Mr.  Curtis  when  I read  his  patient  answers 
to  the  “ interviewers.”  Really,  those  men,  who  have 
made  a profession  of  audacity  and  impertinence,  are  as 


LETTERS. 


221 


insufferable  a nuisance  as  mosquitoes ; and  in  these 
days  there  is  no  kind  of  netting  that  will  keep  the 
pests  out.  Certainly  the  prophesied  day  has  arrived, 
when  whatsoever  is  done  in  the  house  is  proclaimed 
upon  the  house-top.  Was  Dr.  Livingstone  really 
“ interviewed  ” by  a Yankee  “interviewer?”  Why 
don’t  Ave  hear  further  from  him?  What  has  be- 
come of  the  party  headed  by  Dr.  Livingstone’s  son, 
that  set  out  in  search  of  him  before  Stanley  ? Pro- 
fessional interviewers  manufacture  interviews  when 
they  do  not  succeed  in  finding  the  individual  they 
propose  to  bore.  Even  such  a small  lion  as  I am  has 
been  served  up  in  that  st}de.  Years  ago  there  was  a 
column  in  the  “ New  York  Tribune  ” describing  me  in 
a place  where  I never  was,  looking  as  1 never  looked, 
and  saying  things  I never  said  or  thought  of.  Even 
the  heart  of  Africa  is  not  a place  of  safety,  and  if 
one  were  to  climb  Himalaya,  some  sort  of  pulley 
would  be  contrived  to  hoist  up  an  “ interviewer  ” ! 

I am  so  sorry  about  the  Modocs ! I have  no  doubt 
the  poor  wretches  had  been  goaded  to  desperation 
before  they  committed  that  wanton  and  most  impol- 
itic assault  upon  the  Peace  Commissioners.  White 
men  have  so  perpetually  lied  to  them  that  they  don’t 
know  whom,  or  what,  to  believe.  And  after  all,  we, 
who  are  so  much  more  enlightened,  and  who  profess 
to  be  so  much  more  human,  have  again  and  again 
killed  Indians  who  were  decoyed  into  our  power  by  a 
flag  of  truce.  No  mortal  will  ever  know  the  accumu- 
lated wrongs  of  that  poor  people.  No  wonder  they 
turn  at  bay,  in  their  desperation  and  despair.  . . . 

You  ask  if  I am  in  favor  of  the  prohibitory  law.  I 
am.  Its  aim  is,  and  its  effect  would  be,  to  diminish, 
if  not  entirely  to  suppress,  groggeries  ; and  a large 


222 


LETTERS. 


portion  of  the  awful  drunkenness  that  prevails  is  ow- 
ing to  the  moral  weakness  that  cannot  withstand 
temptation  continually  placed  right  before  the  eyes. 
Unfortunatel}^,  alcohol  is  needed  in  medicine  and  in 
various  arts,  but  for  these  purposes  a few  wholesale 
depositories  are  sufficient.  I grow  more  and  more 
strict  about  temperance.  I do  not  now  manufacture 
currant  wine  for  the  sick,  as  I used  to  do. 

TO  MRS.  S.  B.  SHAW. 

Wayland,  1874. 

How  cheering  Mrs.  Somerville’s  Life  is,  as  a proof 
of  the  capabilities  of  woman  ! And  how  it  makes  me 
mourn  over  the  frivolous,  wasted  life’  of  women  in 
general ! 

John  Stuart  Mill’s  biography  made  me  sad  for 
him.  He  had  too  much  soul  to  have  it  entirely 
pressed  to  death  ; but  I believe  he  would  have  been 
a much  greater  man,  and  certainly  a much  happier 
one,  if  it  had  not  been  for  that  loveless,  dreary  child- 
hood, that  incessant  drilling,  that  cramming  of  his 
boyish  brain,  that  pitiless  crushing  out  of  all  spon- 
taneity. With  regard  to  his  writings,  I do  not  al- 
ways like  his  tone,  or  always  agree  with  his  con- 
clusions. It  jarred  upon  my  feelings  to  have  hiin 
decide  that  because  evil  existed,  therefore  the  Creator 
of  the  universe  was  either  not  all-good,  or  else  he 
was  not  all-powerful.  I grant  that,  taking  the  very 
limited  view  we  finite  beings  are  capable  of,  as  many 
facts  could,  perhaps,  be  brought  forward  to  prove  that 
the  world  was  made  by  a malevolent  Being  as  that 
it  was  made  by  a benevolent  Being ; but  we  are  such 
a small  part  of  the  whole,  that  it  seems  to  me  pre- 
sumptuous to  deny  that  the  apparent  discord  may  be 


LETTERS. 


223 


‘‘harmony  not  understood.”  Take  Mill’s  writings  all 
in  all,  they  neither  cheer  nor  strengthen  me,  though 
I greatly  respect  and  admire  the  intellectual  ability, 
the  moral  courage,  and  the  perfect  sincerity  of  the 
man ; and  as  a woman,  there  is  no  limit  to  the  grat- 
itude I owe  him.  Anna  D.  has  recently  sent  me 
a book  which  I like  amazingly  (you  know  you  al- 
ways laugh  at  me  for  my  use  of  that  word).  It  is 
“ A Princess  of  Thule.”  The  plan  of  it  is  original, 
even  in  these  days,  when  one  would  think  the  inven- 
tion of  anything  new  in  stories  had  become  exhausted. 
The  characters  are  well  imagined  and  delineated  with 
a good  deal  of  power.  Descriptions  of  scenery  are 
apt  to  become  tiresome ; but  these  are  not  only 
graphic,  but  are  finished  with  such  exquisitely  artis- 
tic touches,  that  I felt  as  if  I had  been  sailing  among 
the  Hebrides  through  all  their  aspects  of  sunshine 
and  storm.  The  book  brought  back  very  distinctly 
that  overture  of  Mendelssohn’s  called  “ Fingal’s 
Cave,”  so  wonderfully  full  of  winds  and  waves,  and 
seolian  whistlings  through  the  fissures  of  the  rocks. 

There  is  something  very  queer  and  inexplicable 
about  the  manner  in  which  music  comes  to  me.  I am 
lamentably  deficient  in  time  and  tune ; but  in  some 
way  or  other  music  says  things  to  me  which  skilful 
musicians  often  do  not  hear.  The  first  time  I heard 
the  overture  of  “ Fingal’s  Cave,”  I was  very  much  im- 
pressed by  its  sea-wildness,  and  I said  : “ Breathings 
of  an  aeolian  harp  mingle  with  the  voice  of  the  ocean.” 
The  musician  to  whom  I said  it  smiled  in  a way  that 
said,  “ You  are  full  of  odd  conceits.”  Several  years 
after,  when  reading  a description  of  Fingal’s  Cave, 
I found  that  there  was  a fissure  in  the  rocks,  through 
which,  in  certain  states  of  the  tide,  the  winds  played 


224 


LETTERS. 


like  a powerful  aeolian  harp.  I don’t  know  whether 
Mendelssohn  ever  went  to  Fingal’s  Cave  and  heard 
the  weird  music,  but  the  harp  of  the  winds  is  in 
his  overture.  When  I meet  him  in  another  world, 
I mean  to  ask  him,  for  my  own  private  satisfaction, 
whether  he  did  n’t  know  he  put  it  there.  This  fas- 
cinating “ Princess  of  Thule”  brings  back  the  over- 
ture and  the  dream  I once  had  of  seeing  Mendelssohn 
at  a concert  in  the  other  world. 

, TO  THE  SAME. 

WaylaND,  1874. 

I have  been  wanting  to  write  you  these  many  days, 
but  I make  it  a rule  not  to  write  when  I am  sad, 
and  my  soul  has  been  greatly  troubled.  Since  the 
death  of  Ellis  Gray  Loring,  no  affliction  has  op- 
pressed me  so  heavily  as  the  death  of  Charles  Sum- 
ner. I loved  and  reverenced  hiui  beyond  any  other 
man  in  public  life.  He  was  my  ideal  of  a hero,  more 
than  any  of  the  great  men  in  our  national  history. 
In  fact  I almost  worshipped  him.  I see  no  hopes  of 
such  another  man  to  stem  the  overwhelming  tide  of 
corruption  in  this  country.  But  perhaps  when  a mo- 
mentous crisis  comes,  the  hour  will  bring  forth  the 
man.  If  so,  it  will  be  well  for  the  nation  and  for  the 
world ; but  for  myself  I can  never,  never  again  feel 
the  implicit  trust  in  any  mortal  man  that  I felt  in 
Charles  Sumner.  A feeling  akin  to  remorse  renders 
my  grief  almost  insupportable.  Certainly  it  was  not 
my  fault,  that  I could  not  view  the  last  election  in 
the  light  he  did ; but  I wept  bitterly  when  he  wrote 
to  me  : “ It  makes  the  tears  come  to  my  eyes  to  find 
that  you  do  not  sympathize  with  me  in  the  stand  I 
have  taken  from  motives  the  most  conscientious  that 


LETTERS. 


225 


have  ever  influenced  my  life.”  And  now  that  he  has 
gone,  it  seems  as  if  it  would  kill  me  to  think  that  my 
want  of  sympathy  should  ever  have  brought  tears  to 
his  eyes.  . Then  I have  not  written  to  him  for  some 
months  past.  I often  wanted  to,  but  his  mind  seemed 
full  of  the  old  vexed  topic,  and  I knew,  however  ten- 
derly and  reverentially  I might  write,  nothing  would 
satisfy  him  but  the  acknowledgment  that  he  had  been 
entirely  in  the  right ; because  he  never  for  a moment 
ceased  to  believe  himself  so.  It  is  true  that  Presi- 
dent Grant,  since  his  second  election,  has  done  many 
things,  and  left  still  more  undone,  which  tend  to  con- 
firm Mr.  Sumner’s  estimate  of  him.  But,  as  I again 
and  again  wrote  to  Mr.  Sumner,  the  question  was 
not  whether  General  Grant  was  a fitting  candidate  for 
the  presidency,  but  whether  it  was  safe  to  restore 
power  in  our  national  councils  to  Democrats  and 
rebels.  He  believed  that  Democrats  and  rebels  had 
met  with  a great  change  of  heart ; but  I thought,  and 
still  think,  there  was  superabounding  evidence  that 
they  were  still  essentially  in  the  same  state  of  mind  as 
ever.  I thought  then,  and  I think  now,  that  artful 
politicians  could  not  have  so  imposed  upon  Mr.  Sum- 
ner if  it  had  not  been  for  the  state  of  his  health.  If 
he  had  been  in  perfect  physical  health  he  would 

never  have  believed  that  Mr. had  cultivated  the 

growth  of  a conscience,  after  doing  without  one  for 
half  a century.  But  the  more  I am  convinced  that 
his  nervous  system  was  in  a shattered  and  excited 
state,  the  more  keenly  do  I regret  that  I did  not  write 
to  him  -frequently  and  affectionately.  I am  aware 
that  my  letters  could  not  have  been  of  much  conse- 
quence to  him,  but  perhaps  they  might  have  soothed 
him  a little.  It  seems  as  if  I had  been  ungrateful 

15 


226 


LETTERS.  . 


to  him  for  all  his  magnificent  services  to  freedom  and 
public  morals.  In  the  anguish  of  my  heart  I cry  out, 
“ Enemies  wrote  to  him,  and  friends  did  not ! And 
all  the  while  he  was  dying  by  inches ! ” 

Processions  and  flowers  and  panegyrics  have  be- 
come so  much  a matter  of  custom  that  they  are  gener- 
ally distasteful  to  me,  as  are  all  things  that  degener- 
ate into  forms  without  significance.  But  the  homage 
to  the  memory  of  Charles  Sumner  seems  to  be  really 
spontaneous  and  almost  universal.  It  is  a great  con- 
solation to  me,  not  only  because  he  richly  deserved 
it,  but  because  it  is  a good  omen  from  the  nation. 
There  has  been  nothing  like  it  except  the  mourning 
for  Abraham  Lincoln ; and  in  both  cases  it  was  pre- 
eminently honesty  of  character  to  which  the  people 
paid  spontaneous  homage.  They  reverenced  the  men 
because  they  trusted  them. 

TO  THE  SAME. 

1874. 

I try  not  to  be  anxious  about  my  future,  and  to 
feel  a trust  that  “ something  will  turn  up.”  With 
regard  to  out-door  work,  something  did  “ turn  up,” 
in  a wonderful  way,  when  dear  David’s  hands  became 
too  lame  to  do  his  customary  jobs.  The  husband  of 
the  woman  who  has  washed  and  scoured  for  me  has 
for  many  years  acted  “ like  Cain ; ” drinking  up  all 
his  wages,  and  maltreating  his  wife ; and  at  last  he 
set  fire  to  a barn,  and  burnt  up  a dozen  cattle,  because 
the  man  who  had  employed  him  hid  his  rum-bottle. 
He  received  the  mild  sentence  of  two  years  in  the 
House  of  Correction.  I hoped  he  would  die  there;  I 
felt  as  if  I could  never  endure  the  sight  of  him  again. 
But  when  he  came  here  of  an  errand,  the  day  he  had 


LETTERS. 


227 


served  his  time  out,  he  was  so  timid,  and  his  eyes 
had  such  a beseeching  look,  as  if  his  soul  was  hungry 
for  a friend,  that  I could  n’t  stand  it ; I shook  hands 
with  him,  and  invited  him  in.  I bad  a long  private 
talk  with  him,  and  told  him  that  though  he  was  sixty 
years  old  it  was  not  too  late  to  make  a man  of  him- 
self, if  he  would  only  resolve  never  to  taste  another 
drop  of  liquor ; and  I assured  him  that  if  he  would 
only  try,  I would  be  a faithful  friend  to  him.  He 
promised  me  that  he  would  try.  It  is  now  more  than 
a year  and  a half  ago.  He  has  kept  his  promise,  and 
I have  kept  mine.  Every  Sunday  I prepare  a good 
dinner  for  him,  and  give  him  a strong  cup  of  tea. 
He  works  diligently,  supplies  his  wife  with  every- 
thing comfortable,  and  makes  her  a present  of  what 
remains  of  his  wages.  The  poor  woman  says  she  was 
never  so  happy  in  her  life.  He  is  very  attentive  to 
our  wants  ; runs  of  errands,  is  ready  to  shovel  snow, 
split  kindlings,  etc.  In  fact  he  is  our  “man  Friday.” 
If  I could  get  such  faithful,  hearty  service  within 
doors,  I should  be  set  up  for  life.  Of  course  he  may 
fall  back  into  his  old  habits,  but  so  long  a time  has 
elapsed,  and  I seem  to  be  such  an  object  of  worship 
to  him,  that  I cannot  but  hope  for  the  best.  I have 
never  in  my  life  experienced  any  happiness  to  be 
compared  to  the  consciousness  of  lifting  a human  soul 
out  of  the  mire.^ 

1 In  her  will,  Mrs.  Child  left  an  annuity  of  fifty  dollars  a year  to  he 
paid  in  monthly  instalments  to  the  man  mentioned  in  the  above  letter, 
so  long  as  he  should  abstain  from  intoxicating  drink. 


228 


LETTERS. 


TO  JOHN  G.  WHITTIER. 

Wayland,  June  18,  1874. 

I cannot  help  writing  to  thank  you  for  the  Lines 
5’^ou  have  written  to  the  memoiy  of  Charles  Sumner. 
They  are  very  beautiful,  and  nothing  could  be  more 
appropriate. 

We  went  into  Boston  to  hear  Mr.  Curtis’s  Memo- 
rial Address.  I had  been  longing,  amid  all  the  fuss 
and  formality,  to  hear  just  the  right  thing  said  about 
Mr.  Sumner,  and  Mr.  Curtis  said  it,  and  said  it  elo- 
quently, from  the  heart.  . . . Corruption  is  so  wide- 
spread and  so  rampant,  that  I sometimes  have  gloomy 
forebodings  concerning  the  future  of  this  country ; 
but  the  spontaneous  and  general  homage  to  Charles 
Sumner’s  memory  shows  that  there  is  still  great 
respect  for  integrity  deeply  rooted  in  the  popular 
mind. 

I was  reading  over  several  of  your  poems  last  week, 
and  for  the  thousandth  time  I felt  myself  consoled 
and  strengthened  by  them,  as  well  as  delighted  with 
their  poetic  beauty.  It  was  a very  precious  gift  you 
received,  dear  friend,  to  be  such  a benefactor  to  the 
souls  of  your  fellow-beings.  I know  of  no  one  man 
who  I think  has  done  so  much  in  that  way.  That 
immortality  you  are  sure  of. 

David  and  I are  growing  old.  He  will  be  eighty 
in  three  weeks,  and  I was  seventy-two  last  February. 
But  we  keep  young  in  our  feelings.  We  are,  in  fact, 
like  two  old  children ; as  much  interested  as  ever  in 
the  birds  and  the  wild  flowers,  and  with  sympathies 
as  lively  as  ever  in  all  that  concerns  the  welfare  of 
the  world.  Our  habitual  mood  is  serene  and  cheerful. 
The  astonishing  activity  of  evil  sometimes  make  me 


LETTERS. 


229 


despondent  for  a while,  but  my  belief  returns,  as 
strong  as  ever,  that  there  is  more  good  than  evil  in 
the  world,  and  that  the  All-wise  Being  is  guiding 
the  good  to  certain  victory.  How  blest  are  those 
whom  he  employs  as  his  agents  I 

TO  MRS.  S.  M.  PARSONS. 

Wayland,  1874. 

With  regard  to  Dr.  Clarke’s  book,^  I do  not  be- 
lieve his  theory.  Doubtless,  women  who  are  so  much 
engrossed  with  study  as  to  neglect  physical  exercise 
will  lose  their  health,  and  so  will  men.  I have  known 
many  more  cases  of  young  men  who  have  injured 
their  health  in  that  way  than  young  women.  Every 
step  in  the  world’s  progress,  in  any  direction,  is  in- 
evitably hindered  by  old  customs  and  prejudices.  It 
is  necessary  to  bear  this  with  patience,  nay,  to  accept 
it,  as  in  some  sort  a blessing.  Everything  must  be 
disputed,  that  everything  may  be  proved.  The  cen- 
trifugal force  needs  the  centripetal,  in  spiritual,  as 
well  as  in  material  affairs.  Elizabeth  Stuart  Phelps, 
in  an  article  in  the  “ Independent,”  cut  up  Dr.  Clarke 
with  a sharp  knife.  But  I think  it  needs  a woman 
well  versed  in  medical  science  to  fight  him  with  his 
own  weapons. 

TO  MRS.  S.  B.  SHAW. 

Melrose,  October,  1874. 

I have  just  received  your  loving  letter  of  the  26th, 
which  was  forwarded  to  me  here. 

I have  a longing  to  get  to  you,  but  I have  many 
misgivings  about  going  to  New  York.  I was  wonder- 
fully calm  at  the  time,^  and  for  twenty-four  hours 

1 Sex  in  Education.  By  Edward  H.  Clarke,  M.  D.  Boston,  1874. 

2 The  death  of  Mr.  Child. 


230 


LETTERS. 


afterward,  but  since  then  I seem  to  get  more  and 
more  sensitive  and  distressed.  I try  hard  to  over- 
come it,  for  I do  not  want  to  cast  a shadow  over 
others.  Moreover,  I feel  that  such  states  of  mind  are 
wrong.  There  are  so  many  reasons  for  thankfulness 
to  the  Heavenly  Father  ! And  I do  feel  very  thank- 
ful that  he  did  not  suffer  for  a very  long  time  ; that 
the  powers  of  his  mind  were  undimmed  to  the  last ; 
that  my  strength  and  faculties  were  preserved  to  take 
care  of  him  to  the  last ; and  that  the  heavy  burden  of 
loneliness  has  fallen  upon  me,  rather  than  upon  him. 

But  at  times  it  seems  as  if  I could  no  longer  bear 
the  load.  I keep  breaking  down.  They  told  me  I 
should  feel  better  after  I got  away  from  Wayland, 
where  memories  haunted  me  at  every  step.  But  I do 
not  feel  better.  On  the  contrary,  I am  more  deeply 
sad.  The  coming  and  going  of  people  talking  about 
subjects  of  common  interest  makes  life  seem  like  a 
foreign  land,  where  I do  not  understand  the  language. 
And  I go  back  to  my  darling  old  mate  with  a more 
desperate  and  clinging  tenderness.  And  when  there 
conies  no  response  but  the  memory  of  that  narrow 
little  spot  where  I planted  flowers  the  day  before  I 
left  our  quiet  little  nest,  it  seems  to  me  as  if  all  were 
gone,  and  as  if  I stood  utterly  alone  on  a solitary  rock 
in  mid-ocean ; alone,  in  midnight  darkness,  hearing 
nothing  but  the  surging  of  the  cold  waves. 

How  unfit  I am  for  the  company  of  others ! It 
would  be  so  painful  to  me  to  be  a mar-plot  to  the 
pleasures  of  others ! Thinking  thus,  I have  great 
misgivings  about  going  to  New  York.  I long  to  get 
back  to  W ayland,  to  creep  into  a very  private  corner, 
and  read  stories  to  keep  me  from  thinking.  All  this 
is  morbid.  But  how  to  get  over  it  is  the  question. 


LETTERS. 


231 


Dear  Rosa  thinks  I may  like  to  live  near  New 
York.  But  all ! how  my  heart  would  yearn  for  old 
Massachusetts,  where  I lived  with  dear  David  so  many 
years ! Years  of  struggle  they  have  been,  for  the 
most  part,  but  perhaps  all  the  dearer  for  the  trials 
we  passed  through  together.  I ought  not  to  bring  a 
shadow  over  your  happy  household.  God  bless  you 
all! 


TO  MISS  A.  B.  FRANCIS. 


Staten  Island,  November  23,  1874. 

I was  received  with  the  warmest  of  welcomes.  I 
have  a pretty,  sunshiny  room  all  to  myself,  hung  with 
pictures,  warmly  carpeted,  with  soap-stone  stove  and 
every  conceivable  convenience. 

From  one  window,  I look  out  upon  a lawn  with 
trees  and  shubbery  ; from  the  other,  upon  a broad 
expanse  of  water,  shimmering  in  the  sunlight,  with 
vessels  and  steamboats  constantly  passing,  their  bright 
flags  fluttering  in  the  breeze.  The  only  trouble  is 
that  everything  is  too  luxurious,  and  that  I am  waited 
upon  more. than  suits  my  habits  or  inclinations. 

I shall  get  used  to  it,  in  time  ; but  at  present  I feel 
“like  a cat  in  a strange  garret,”  and,  like  a stray 
pussy,  I would  set  off  and  run  hundreds  of  miles,  foot- 
sore and  weary,  if  I could  only  get  back  to  my  hum- 
ble little  home  and  my  darling  old  mate. 

But  there  is  no  more  of  that  for  me,  in  this  world 
and  I ought  to  be  thankful  to  the  Heavenly  Father 
for  raising  up  such  kind  friends  to  hold  me  by  the 
hand  while  I am  passing  through  this  valley  of 
shadows.  I am  taken  right  into  the  bosom  of  the 
family,  and  am  free  to  come  and  go,  just  as  I please  ; 
and  I like  all  the  inmates  extremely. 


232 


LETTERS. 


TO  MR.  AND  MRS.  S.  E.  SEWALL. 

Staten  Island,  January  10,  1875. 

You  don’t  know  how  frequently  and  how  affection- 
ately I think  of  you,  and  how  I long  to  have  the 
light  of  your  countenances  shine  upon  me.  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  S.  go  over  to  New  York  two  or  three  times  a 
week,  and  I sit  alone  in  my  little  room  and  think, 
think,  think.  And  there  is  but  one  who  occupies 
my  thoughts  more  than  you  two  dear,  good  friends, 
whom  he  loved  so  well.  Pope  says,  “ The  last  years 
of  life,  like  tickets  left  in  the  wheel,  rise  in  value.” 
It  certainly  is  true  of  the  last  friends  that  remain  to 
us.  I have  been  eminently  blest  in  my  few  inti- 
mate friends,  and  I think  it  is  mainly  owing  to  the 
fact  that  they  were  all  sifted  in  the  anti-slavery 
sieve.  . . . 

On  Christmas  Eve  I went  with  R.  H.  to  a gather- 
ing of  O.  B.  Frothingham’s  Sunday-school  scholars 
and  a troop  of  poor  children  whom  they  had  invited 
to  partake  with  them  of  the  manifold  treasures  on 
the  Christmas-tree.  Oliver  Johnson  personated  Santa 
Claus,  and  did  it  very  well,  marching  round  and 
round  in  grotesque  costume,  to  the  lively  tunes  played 
by  a colored  fiddler.  The  little  folks  seemed  to  en- 
joy it  highly.  O.  B.  F.  made  a quaint  little  speech 
to  them,  in  which  he  told  them  what  a good  baby 
Jesus  was,  never  crying  for  what  he  ought  not  to 
have,  never  pulling  his  mother’s  hair,  etc.  . . . 

That  is  all  the  pleasuring  or  visiting  I have  done 
since  I parted  from  you.  My  days  glide  on  very 
quietly  and  comfortably,  and  for  the  sake  of  others 
I try  to  keep  from  sadness  as  much  as  possible. 

On  Sundays  I go  to  the  Unitarian  meeting,  in  an 


LETTERS. 


233 


extremely  pretty  little  Gothic  chapel,  where  George 
W.  Curtis  reads  the  best  sermons  of  English  and 
American  liberal  preachers.  The  walk  of  a mile  is 
healthy  exercise  for  me.  They  have  a good  organ, 
and  Mr.  Curtis  reads  admirably,  so  I find  it  a pleasant 
change. 

TO  MRS.  S.  B.  SHAW. 

Wayland,  1875. 

My  long  visit  to  you  was  a great  help  to  my  heart 
and  soul  in  many  ways,  and  I was  happier  than  I 
could  have  been  anywhere  else,  under  the  circum- 
stances. But  you  are  right  in  supposing  that  I often 
felt  “ confused  and  bewildered.”  I feel  so  everywhere, 
dear  friend,  and  I suppose  it  will  be  long  before  I 
get  over  it.  Here  in  my  native  Massachusetts  I feel 
like  a hungry  child  lost  in  a dark  wood.  People  are 
very  kind  to  me,  but  I cannot  banish  the  desolate 
feeling  that  I belong  to  nobody  and  that  nobody  be- 
longs to  me.  . . . 

Three  days  ago  I went  to  my  empty  little  shanty 
alone,  opened  doors  and  windows,  and  built  fires  with 
the  wood  dear  David  had  so  carefully  provided.  It 
was  a very  solemn  and  sad  task.  Every  room  was 
baptized  with  my  tears.  I have  wavered  a good  deal 
about  having  my  furniture  carried  back  there,  but 
nothing  better  seems  to  open  for  me,  and  when  I in- 
habit the  house,  I hope  the  desolate  feeling  will  grad- 
ually pass  away.  You  cannot  imagine  anything  more 
still  and  secluded  than  my  life  here.  Luckily,  I have 
been  obliged  to  be  very  busy,  most  of  the  time.  It 
was  a job  to  get  things  back  and  arrange  them.  I 
sleep  in  the  same  old  chamber,  where  I slept  so  many 
years  with  my  dear  old  mate  ; where  we  were  wont  to 
amuse  our  waking  hours  reciting  German  poetry,  and 


234 


LETTERS. 


talking  over  all  the  affairs  of  the  universe.  I don’t 
look  into  a German  book,  for  there  is  nobody  to 
hear  me  “ speak  my  pieces  ” now. 

TO  MRS.  S.  E.  SEWALL. 

June  11,  1875. 

Finding  Robert  F.  Wallcut  very  desirous  of  a pho- 
tograph of  me,  and  having  none  to  give  him,  I went 
to  have  some  taken.  A neighbor  here  told  me 
wonderful  stories  about  a spirit-photographer.  So  I 
thought  I would  go  to  him  to  have  my  photograph 
taken,  and,  without  saying  anything,  see  what  would 
happen.  When  he  showed  me  the  negative,  I said, 
“ There  is  no  other  figure  than  my  own  on  the  plate.” 
“ Did  you  wish  for  any  other  ? ” he  asked.  I thought 
to  myself,  “ So  they  don’t  come  unless  they  are  bar- 
gained for ! ” But  I merely  said,  “ If  any  departed 
friends  had  been  reflected  on  the  plate,  it  would  have 
been  gratifying,  of  course.” 

“ It  takes  a longer  time  to  procure  the  photographs 
of  spirits,”  he  replied,  “ and  therefore  I charge  as 
much  for  six  as  I do  for  twelve  of  the  common  kind.” 
I told  him  I would  like  to  have  him  try,  on  condition 
that  I neither  took  them,  nor  paid  for  them,  unless 
there  came  the  likeness  of  somebody  I had  known. 
He  demurred,  and  said  people  must  take  their  chance. 
A young  clerk  in  the  establishment  looked  at  me 
twice  and  smiled  very  significantly  during  our  con- 
versation. The  photographer  seemed  embarrassed 
and  impatient;  but  he  finally  consented  to  my  terms. 
He  took  the  second  plate  out  and  carried  it  into  an- 
other room,  where  he  remained  three  times  as  long  as 
he  had  done  with  the  negative  of  my  first  photograph. 
When  he  brought  it  to  me,  at  last,  there  were  two 


LETTERS. 


235 


heads  behind  my  own ; one  of  them  a vulgar-looking 
man,  the  other  a fat-faced  girl  with  fluffy  hair; 
neither  of  them  faces  had  I ever  seen  before,  or  ever 
desired  to  see  again.  The  whole  proceeding  indicated 
trickery.  Still,  notwithstanding  the  great  amount  of 
trickery  practised,  and  the  unsatisfactory  nature  of 
all  the  communications,  there  are  real  phenomena 
connected  with  the  subject  which  are  to  me  inexpli- 
cable, and  which  indicate  some  laws  of  the  universe 
at  present  unknown  to  us. 

TO  JOHN  G.  WHITTIEK. 

Wayland,  January  20,  1876. 

You  remember  Charles  Sprague’s  description  of 
scenes  he  witnessed  from  a wdndow  near  State 
Street  ? First,  Garrison  dragged  through  the  streets 
by  a mob ; second.  Burns  carried  back  to  slavery  by 
United  States  troops,  through  the  same  street ; third, 
a black  regiment  marching  down  the  same  street  to 
the  tune  of  “ John  Brown,”  to  join  the  United  States 
army  for  the  emancipation  of  their  race.  What  a 
thrilling  historical  poem  might  be  made  of  that ! I 
have  always  thought  that  no  incident  in  the  anti- 
slavery conflict,  including  the  war,  was  at  once  so  sub- 
lime and  romantic  as  Robert  G.  Shaw  riding  through 
Washington  Street  at  the  head  of  that  black  regiment. 
He,  so  young,  so  fair,  so  graceful  in  his  motions,  so 
delicately  nurtured,  so  high-bred  in  his  manners, 
waving  his  sword  to  friends  at  the  windows,  like  a 
brave  young  knight  going  forth  to  “ deeds  of  high 
emprise  ; ” followed  by  that  dark-faced  train,  so  long 
trampled  in  the  dust,  and  now  awakened  by  the 
trumpet-tones  of  freedom  ! How  I wish  a grand  his- 
torical painting  could  be  made  of  it ! Mr.  Sears,  in  a 


236 


LETTERS. 


sermon  he  preached  at  the  time  of  the  attack  on  Fort 
Wagner,  said : “ The  mere  conflict  of  brute  forces  is 
so  much  murder  and  slaughter,  and  nothing  more. 
Wliichever  side  is  victorious,  there  is  cause  for  humil- 
iation, and  not  for  thanksgiving.  But  in  the  great 
conflict  of  ideas,  of  civilization  against  barbarism,  of 
universal  emancipation  against  the  slavery  of  a race, 
it  were  a shame  not  to  see  the  sword  of  God’s  mighty 
angel  flashing  like  sunbeams  oyer  the  field,  and  light- 
ing our  way  to  a glorious  future.” 

TO  THE  SAME. 

Wayland,  January  28,  1876. 

A few  days  ago,  “ the  spirit  moved  ” me  to  write 
to  you  ; and  to-day  I am  again  moved  to  write  to  you 
some  little  incidents  which  I think  will  interest  you. 

I spent  last  winter  with  the  parents  of  Colonel 
Shaw.  . . . The  flag  of  the  54th  Regiment  was  in 
their  hall,  and  the  sword  of  Colonel  Shaw.  There  is 
a history  about  that  sword.  It  is  very  handsome, 
being  richly  damascened  with  the  United  States  coat- 
of-arms,  and  the  letters  R.  G.  S.  beneath.  It  was  a 
present  from  a wealthy  uncle  in  England,  and  he  re- 
ceived it  a few  days  before  the  attack  on  Fort  Wag- 
ner. You  know  of  his  instantaneous  death,  and  the 
manner  of  his  burial.  When  it  was  suggested  to  his 
father  and  mother  to  ask  for  his  body,  to  be  buried 
at  the  North,  they  replied  ; ‘‘  No.  Let  it  remain 
where  it  fell.  No  monument  can  be  so  honorable  to 
him,  as  to  lie  among  the  brave  followers  whom  he 
was  leading  in  the  cause  of  freedom.”  When  he  went 
South,  he  of  course  had  many  parting  keepsakes. 
For  the  sake  of  tender  associations,  his  family  made 
earnest  efforts  to  obtain  some  of  these  ; but  amid  the 


LETTERS. 


23T 


turmoil  and  reckless  robbery  of  war  they  had  all  van- 
ished. They  could  not  obtain  even  the  smallest  me- 
morial of  him.  But,  months  after,  an  officer  of  the 
United  States  heard  that  his  sword  was  in  posses- 
sion of  a Confederate  family.  He  took  a small  band 
of  soldiers  and  went  to  their  dwelling  to  ask  for  the 
sword  to  send  to  Colonel  Shaw’s  parents.  No  one 
was  at  home  but  a few  colored  servants,  who  of 
course  were  not  very  reluctant  to  admit  the  United 
States  officers.  He  searched  the  premises,  found  the 
sword,  and  carried  it  off,  without  taking  any  other 
article  from  the  house.  It  nearly  escaped  their  no- 
tice, on  account  of  being  concealed  in  an  old  worn 
scabbard.  The  elegant  sheath  whicli  belonged  to  it 
was  probably  fastened  to  Colonel  Shaw’s  body,  and 
thrown  into  the  pit  with  him.  When  his  mother 
showed  me  the  weapon  she  said : “ This  is  the  sword 
that  Robert  waved  over  his  followers,  as  he  urged 
them  to  the  attack.  I am  so  glad  it  was  never  used 
in  battle ! Not  a drop  of  blood  was  ever  on'  it.  He 
had  received  it  but  a few  days  before  he  died.”  These 
noble-hearted  people  manifested  the  same  spirit  about 
the  burning  of  Darien.  Colonel  Shaw  was  strongly 
opposed  to  that  measure,  and  publicly  expressed  his 
disapprobation  of  ifc  as  a wanton  abuse  of  power,  and 
an  unnecessary  addition  to  the  horrors  and  sufferings 
of  war.  But  the  Georgians,  by  mistake  or  otherwise, 
accused  him  of  having  instigated  it.  His  father  took 
great  pains  to  prove  to  them  that  Colonel  Shaw  and 
his  family  entirely  disapproved  of  the  conflagration, 
and  years  after  peace  was  declared  he  sent  them  a 
generous  donation  towards  rebuilding  a small  Epis- 
copal church  which  had  been  burned. 

I will  tell  you  another  touching  incident,  not  with- 


238 


LETTERS. 


out  its  beauty.  Years  after  the  war  was  over,  a 
rumor  reached  the  North  that  the  embankment  at 
Fort  Wagner  had  broken  away,  and  that  some  of  the 
bones  buried  there  were  falling  through.  A connec- 
tion of  Colonel  Shaw’s,  who  was  going  South  for  her 
health,  resolved  to  ascertain  whether  tliis  report  were 
true.  Accordingly  she  procured  a boat  and  was 
rowed  to  Fort  Wagner.  Tlie  embankment  was  not 
broken,  and  the  place  where  Robert  was  “ buried  with 
his  niggers  ” was  one  mass  of  white  blossoms  ! It 
had  happened  thus  : Hay  had  been  canned  from  the 
North  for  the  horses  of  the  United  States  troops, 
and  with  the  hay  was  carried  seed  of  the  Northern 
“ whiteweed,”  a large  starry  flower  with  a golden 
heart.  The  weed  had  been  unknown  at  the  South, 
and,  handsome  as  it  is,  it  will  certainly  prove  no 
blessing  there.  But  was  it  not  beautiful  that  the 
spot  they  strove  to  desecrate  should  be  spontaneously, 
and,  as  it  were,  fondly  beautified  by  Mother  Nature 
with  this  profusion  of  white  flowers  from  the  North, 
shining  in  the  warm  sunlight  of  the  South  ? You 
and  I have  the  same  feelings  about  war.  But  when 
I looked  at  that  sword,  and  the  flag  of  the  54th,  I 
thought  of  those  brave  colored  men  facing  death  in 
the  cause  of  their  oppressed  brethren,  and  of  their 
leader  leaving  behind  him  all  the  fascinations  of  love, 
luxury,  and  refinement,  and  laying  down  his  life  in 
the  cause  of  the  poor  and  the  despised ; and,  with  all 
my  detestation  of  war,  that  sword  did  seem  to  me 
holy.  He  was  acting  out  his  convictions  of  duty  in 
a manner  that  seemed  to  him  noble  and  right,  and 
which  was  so  in  the  opinion  of  an  immense  majority 
of  Christendom. 


LETTERS. 


239 


TO  MRS.  S.  B.  SHAW. 

Wayland,  1876. 

I have  been  gadding  unusually  for  me.  I went  to 
the  meeting  of  the  Free  Religious  Association,  where 
I was  sorely  tempted  to  speak,  because  the  only 
woman  who  did  speak  was  so  flippant  and  conceited 
that  I was  ashamed  of  her.  In  the  same  excursion,  I 
spent  a day  and  night  at  Concord,  with  the  Alcotts. 
Mrs.  Alcott  was  a friend  of  my  youth,  and  the  sister 
of  my  dear  friend,  S.  J.  May.  We  had  a charming 
time,  talking  over  the  dear  old  eventful  times.  I 
like  L.  and  her  artist-sister,  M.,  very  much.  Some 
people  complain  that  they  are  brusque;  but  it  is 
merely  because  they  are  very  straightforward  and 
sincere.  They  have  a Christian  hatred  of  lionizing ; 
and  the  Leo  Hunters  are  a very  numerous  and  im- 
pertinent family.  Moreover,  they  don’t  like  conven- 
tional fetters  any  better  than  I do.  There  have  been 
many  attempts  to  saddle  and  bridle  me,  and  teach 
me  to  keep  step  in  respectable  processions  ; but  they 
have  never  got  the  lasso  over  my  neck  yet,  and  “ old 
boss  ” as  I am  now,  if  I see  the  lasso  in  the  air,  I 
snort  and  gallop  off,  determined  to  be  a free  horse 
to  the  last,  and  put  up  with  the  consequent  lack  of 
grooming  and  stabling. 

The  house  of  the  Alcotts  took  my  fancy  greatly. 
When  they  bought  the  place  the  house  was  so  very 
old  that  it  was  thrown  into  the  bargain,  with  the 
supposition  that  it  was  fit  for  nothing  but  fire-wood. 
But  Mr.  Alcott  has  an  architectural  taste  more  in- 
telligible than  his  Orphic  Sayings.  He  let  every  old 
rafter  and  beam  stay  in  its  place,  changed  old  ovens 
and  ash-holes  into  Saxon-arched  alcoves,  and  added 


240 


LETTERS. 


a wash- woman’s  old  shanty  to  the  rear.  The  result 
is  a house  full  of  queer  nooks  and  corners,  and  all 
manner  of  juttings  in  and  out.  It  seems  as  if  the 
spirit  of  some  old  architect  had  brought  it  from  the 
Middle  Ages  and  dropped  it  down  in  Concord ; pre- 
serving much  better  resemblance  to  the  place  whence 
it  was  brought  than  does  the  Virgin  Mary’s  house, 
which  the  angel  carried  from  Bethlehem  to  Loretto. 
The  capable  Alcott  daughters  painted  and  papered 
the  interior  themselves.  And  gradually  the  artist- 
daughter  filled  up  all  the  nooks  and  corners  with 
panels  on  which  she  had  painted  birds  or  flowers  ; 
and  over  the  open  fire-places  she  painted  mottoes  in 
ancient  English  characters.  Owls  blink  at  you  and 
faces  peep  from  the  most  unexpected  places.  The 
whole  leaves  a general  impression  of  harmony,  of  a 
medieval  sort,  though  different  parts  of  the  house 
seem  to  have  stopped  in  a dance  that  became  con- 
fused because  some  of  the  party  did  not  keep  time. 
The  walls  are  covered  with  choice  engravings,  and 
paintings  by  the  artist-daughter.  She  really  is  an 
artist. 

TO  THE  SAME. 

Wayland,  1876. 

Whittier,  in  one  of  his  letters  to  me,  expresses  him- 
self about  your  beloved  Robert,  thus  : “ I know  of 
nothing  nobler  or  grander  than  the  heroic  self-sacri- 
fice of  young  Colonel  Shaw.  The  only  regiment  I ever 
looked  upon  during  the  war  was  the  54th,  on  its  de- 
parture for  the  South.  I shall  never  forget  the  scene. 
As  he  rode  at  the  head  of  his  troops,  the  very  flower 
of  grace  and  chivalry,  he  seemed  to  me  beautiful  and 
awful  as  an  angel  of  God  come  down  to  lead  the 
host  of  freedom  to  victory.  I have  longed  to  speak 


LETTERS. 


241 


the  emotions  of  that  hour,  but  I dared  not,  lest  I 
should  indirectly  give  a new  impulse  to  war.  For 
his  parents  I feel  that  reverence  which  belongs  to  the 
highest  manifestation  of  devotion  to  duty  and  forget- 
fulness of  self,  in  view  of  the  mighty  interests  of  hu- 
manity. There  must  be  a noble  pride  in  their  great 
sorrow.  I am  sure  they  would  not  exchange  their 
dead  son  for  any  living  one.” 

TO  THE  SAME. 

Wayland,  1876. 

The  books  arrived  safely ; for  which  I thank  you. 
I must  now  tell  you  of  something  pleasant  that  has 
happened  to  me.  Miss  Osgood  left  ^2,000  for  the 
colored  people,  and  appointed  me  trustee.  I gave 
$1,000  to  the  Horae  for  old  colored  women,  and  with 
the  remainder  I founded  a scholarship  at  Hampton 
College,  Va.  Soon  after,  I chanced  to  see  a letter 
from  a young  colored  man  in  Georgia,  to  a lady  who 
had -been  his  teacher.  He  had  been  working  very  in- 
dustriously to  earn  money  to  go  to  Hampton  College, 
and  had  for  that  purpose  placed  $300  in  the  Freed- 
man’s Bank,  and  lost  it  all  by  the  dishonesty  of  the 
managers.  His  letter  impressed  me  very  favorably, 
not  only  because  it  was  uncommonly  well  written,  but 
especially  because  he  wrote  : “ Don’t  beg  for  me  at 
the  North,  my  good  friend.  I will  go  to  work  and 
try  again.  I want  to  row  my  own  boat.”  I sent  the 
letter  to  General  Armstrong,  and  asked  that  the  “ Os- 
good Scholarship  ” might  be  bestowed  upon  him. 
That  would  defray  the  expense  of  his  education,  and 
if  he  was  unable  to  pay  for  board,  necessary  books, 
etc.,  I agreed  to  be  responsible  therefor;  with  the 
request  that  he  might  not  know  there  was  any  one  to 
16 


242 


LETTERS. 


help  him  “row  his  boat.”  A few  days  ago  I had  a 
letter  from  General  Armstrong,  in  which  he  says : 
“ Forsyth  is  an  uncommonly  intelligent,  sensible,  and 
every  way  satisfactory  pupil ; and  I have  no  doubt  he 
will  make  a good  record  of  himself  hereafter.”  That 
had  a very  happyfying  influence.  I have  so  often 
been  unsuccessful  in  my  efforts  to  help  others. 

TO  MRS.  S.  M.  PARSONS. 

Boston,  December,  1876. 

Your  parcel  arrived  Christmas  forenoon,  and  was 
most  welcome.  For  nine  days  I had  been  unable  to 
stir  out  of  the  house,  on  account  of  the  fearfully  slip- 
pery walking,  and  I was  feeling  very  forlorn  among 
strangers.  The  weather  also  was  cloudy  and  chill}^, 
and  your  little  parcel  came  in  like  a sunbeam  through 
a fog.  Thank  you  a thousand  times.  The  views  are 
very  flne.  Perhaps  the  lady  who  carved  the  beauti- 
ful head  in  butter  took  the  hint  from  Canova,  who, 
as  a boy,  first  attracted  attention  by  the  beautiful  or- 
naments he  carved  in  butter  for  a nobleman’s  table. 
I thank  Henry  cordially  for  the  little  book  of  poems. 
I always  read  eagerly  any  poem  I see  signed  “ J.  W. 
Chadwick.”  The  one  entitled  “ The  Two  Wait- 
ings ” is  about  the  loveliest  poem  I ever  read.  I cop- 
ied it  into  my  extract  book  long  ago.  The  lines 
“ No  more  Sea  ” are  beautiful.  They  seemed  to  bear 
my  drooping  spirits  up  on  angel’s  wings. 

As  for  our  national  affairs,  I submit,  as  one  must 
do,  to  things  that  cannot  be  helped.  I am  greatly 
disheartened,  but  not  much  disappointed.  I have  no 
patience  with  Republicans  who  refrained  from  voting 
on  the  plea  that  both  parties  were  so  corrupt  there 
was  nothing  to  choose  between  them.  I am  very 


LETTERS. 


243 


weary  of  the  fashionable  optimism  which  calls  one 
thing  as  good  as  another  thing,  thus  undermining  all 
distinctions  between  right  and  wrong.  The  “ Good 
Lord  and  Good  Devil  ” style,  so  habitually  adopted 
by  Mr does  not  suit  my  taste.  I liked  Garri- 

son’s earnest,  straightforward  letter  to  James  Free- 
man Clarke. 


TO  THE  SAME. 

Boston,  February  10,  1877. 

Your  bundle  of  views  has  just  arrived.  I think 
only  three  of  them  are  duplicates.  Thank  you  a 
thousand  times  for  the  kind  remembrance.  I am  a 
little  childish  about  liking  to  be  remembered  on  my 
birthday.  Seventy-five  years  old  ! What  a long  time 
to  be  wandering  about  this  planet ! 

I think  every  individual,  and  every  society,  is  per- 
fected just  in  proportion  to  the  combination,  and  co- 
operation, of  masculine  and  feminine  elements  of  char- 
acter. He  is  the  most  perfect  man  who  is  affectionate 
as  well  as  intellectual ; and  she  is  the  most  perfect 
woman  who  is  intellectual  as  well  as  affectionate.  Ev- 
ery art  and  science  becomes  more  interesting,  viewed 
both  from  the  masculine  and  feminine  points  of  view. 
Not  of  marriage  only  may  it  be  justly  said,  “ What 
God  has  joined  together,  let  not  man  put  asunder.” 
I think  God  intended  a participation  of  the  mascu- 
line and  feminine  element  in  every  relation  and  every 
duty  of  life.  Politics  form  no  exception  to  this  uni- 
versal rule.  There  are  many  ways  in  which  women 
could  do  good  service  to  their  country  by  thoughtful 
and  conscientious  action  in  politics.  By  urging  more 
enlightened  laws,  and  voting  for  those  who  will  sustain 
such  laws,  they  may  do  much  to  shield  their  sons  and 


244 


LETTERS. 


brothers  from  the  dangerous  temptations  of  intemper- 
ance and  licentiousness.  By  advocating  and  voting 
for  a peaceable  international  settlement  of  difficulties, 
,they  may  do  much  to  prevent  husbands,  sons,  and 
brothers  from  being  butchered  in  battle.  War  is  a 
horrid  barbarism,  which  ought  to  cease  throughout 
the  civilized  world.  But  even  war  is  no  exception 
to  the  rule  that  masculine  and  feminine  elements 
should  everywhere  cooperate  together.  None  can 
help  so  efficiently  as  women  in  the  hospital  depart- 
ment of  war,  and  their  usefulness  might  also  be  great 
in  the  commissary  department.  The  more  the 
sphere  of  woman’s  activity  of  thought  enlarges,  the 
more  her  character  and  capabilities  enlarge.  The 
more  her  attention  is  taken  up  with  important  sub- 
jects, the  less  time  and  thought  will  she  expend  on 
fashion  and  frivolous  amusements.  During  the  War 
of  the  Rebellion,  there  were  sudden  changes  of  char- 
acter in  mere  worldly  women,  that  seemed  almost 
miraculous.  Ladies,  who  had  been  accustomed  to 
while  away  the  hours  of  life  with  fancy  work,  mani- 
fested a degree  of  executive  ability  in  the  sanitary 
commission,  and  in  the  hospitals,  which  astonished 
their  husbands  and  brothers.  The  power  had  always 
been  in  them,  but  it  had  not  been  developed,  because 
they  had  not  been  called  upon  to  use  it.  The  women 
of  Asia  have  the  same  human  nature,  and  the  same 
natural  capabilities,  that  we  have  ; but  in  those  coun- 
tries they  spend  their  time  playing  with  dolls  and 
chattering  with  parrots.  If  they  had  been  brought 
to  New  England  as  soon  as  they  were  born,  they 
would  have  become  clerks,  authors,  doctors,  painters, 
and  sculptors,  and  enlightened  domestic  companions 
for  intelligent  men,  and  sensible,  judicious  mothers  of 
coming  generations. 


LETTERS. 


245 


The  civilization  of  any  country  may  always  be 
measured  by  the  degree  of  equality  between  men  and 
women  ; and  society  will  never  come  truly  into  order 
until  there  is  perfect  equality  and  copartnership  be- 
tween them  in  every  department  of  human  life.  . . . 

TO  MRS.  S.  B.  SHAW. 

Boston,  1878. 

I get  fresh  reinforcement  of  courage,  trust,  and 
hope  whenever  I hear  Mr.  Savage  preach.  He  is  a 
genuine,  all-alive  man,  and  in  his  earnest,  straight- 
forward way,  he  is  doing  a great. work.  He  fills  my 
soul  so  full  of  electricity  that  the  sparks  fly  when 
any  sham  touches  me. 

I have  been  reading  all  sorts  of  books  : Renan’s 
Jesus,  Herbert  Spencer’s  Philosophy,  Omar  Kheyam, 
etc.  What  a very  French  Jesus  Renan  portrays. 
To  think  of  its  being  all  arranged  to  raise  Lazarus, 
to  produce  an  effect,  because  public  opinion  required 
that  he  should  prove  himself  a prophet  by  restoring 
a dead  man  to  life. 

There  is  a charm  about  the  book,  the  descriptions 
are  so  home-like.  But  it  is  curious  to  observe  how 
he  fluctuates  between  the  decisions  of  his  own  reason 
and  his  fear  of  making  Jesus  seem  too  human  to 
please  his  readers.  He  represents  Jesus  as  occasion- 
ally ‘‘  tacking  and  veering,”  adroitly,  according  to 
the  popular  breeze  ; and  he  certainly  does  so  himself. 
I suppose  it  seems  to  a Frenchman  the  most  natural 
thing  in  the  world  for  even  the  holiest  man  to  di- 
verge from  the  straight  line  for  the  purposes  of  tem- 
porary expediency. 


246 


LETTERS. 


TO  THE  SAME. 

Boston,  1878. 

I have  three  times  been  to  such  lectures  as  are 
given  in  the  afternoon.  One  on  “ Japanese  Ways  ” 
entertained  me  much.  It  was  by  Professor  Morse, 
lately  returned  from  Japan.  He  said  he  was  struck 
with  the  peculiar  cleanliness  of  all  persons,  and  all 
places,  in  Japan.  Their  tea  houses,  or  restaurants, 
were  scrupulously  neat,  made  cheerful  by  a few  bright 
pictures  of  birds,  or  flowers,  and  ornamented  mottoes 
from  Buddhist  Scriptures,  such  as  “ Forgive  all  inju- 
ries “ Speak  ill  of  no  one,”  etc.  “ When  I came  back 
to  our  depots  and  restaurants,”  said  he,  “ and  saw 
on  the  walls,  ‘ Beware  of  pickpockets ! ’ and  coarse 
pictures  of  pugilists,  I thought  that  we  might  learn 
some  salutary  lessons  from  Japan.  But  they  are  an 
extremely  courteous  people ; they  are  too  polite  to 
send  us  missionaries.” 

This  hit  brought  cordial  applause. 

TO  MRS.  S.  B.  RUSSELL. 

Wayland,  May  24,  1878. 

Thanks  for  your  affectionate,  cheerful  letter.  I 
am  as  pleased  as  a child  with  a new  doll,  to  think  you 
liked  my  little  book  ^ “entirely.”  In  this  secluded 
place,  where  people  take  little  or  no  interest  in  any- 
thing, I have  no  means  of  knowing  what  effect  the 
book  produces.  My  motive  was  good,  and  I tried  to 
write  in  a candid  and  kindly  spirit.  I leave  it  to  its 
fate,  merely  hoping  that  it  may  do  somewhat  to  en- 
large the  bands  of  human  brotherhood.  Personally 

1 Aspirations  of  the  World.  A Chain  of  Opals.  Collected,  with  an 
Introduction,  by  L.  Maria  Child.  Boston,  1878. 


LETTERS. 


247 


I have  never  expected  any  advantage  from  the  publi- 
cation of  it.  If  it  pays  its  own  expenses  I shall  be 
satisfied.  It  would  mortify  me  to  have  the  publish- 
ers incur  debt  by  it. 

It  is  wonderful  how  shy  even  liberal  ministers  gen- 
erally are  about  trusting  people  with  the  plain  truth 
concerning  their  religion.  They  want  to  veil  it  in  a 
supernatural  haze.  They  are  very  reluctant  to  part 
with  the  old  idea  that  God  has  given  to  Jews  and 
Christians  a peculiar  monopoly  of  truth.  It  is  a self- 
ish view  of  God’s  goveniment  of  the  world,  and  it  is 
time  that  we  knew  enough  to  outgrow  it. 

TO  MISS  ANNE  WHITNEY. 

1878. 

You  were  right  in  your  prediction  about  your 
poems.  Many  of  them  are  too  metaphysical  for  my 
simple,  practical  mind. 

I cannot  soar  so  high,  or  dive  so  deep ; so  I stand 
looking  and  wondering  where  you  have  gone,  like  a 
cow  watching  a bird  or  a dolphin.  A wag  said  that 
when  Emerson  was  in  Egypt,  the  Sphinx  said  to  him, 
“ You  ’re  another.”  I imagine  the  Sphinx  would  ad- 
dress you  in  the  same  way.  I find  great  beauty  in 
the  poems  ; and  of  those  which  I do  not  understand, 
I say,  as  was  said  of  Madame  de  Stael,  “ Would  that 
the  Pythoness  were  less  inspired,  or  I more  intelli- 
gent.” My  favorites  are  the  “ Cyba,”  the  “ Yaguey,” 
the  “ Prospect,”  and  “Evening all  of  them,  you  see, 
characterized  by  the  plainness  of  their  meaning. 

TO  THE  SAME. 

Boston,  November  25,  1878. 

Dear  Saucebox,  — I dined  with yesterday, 

and  I expect  to  do  it  again  next  Sunday ; and  I do 


248 


LETTERS. 


not  intend  to  enter  upon  a course  of  promiscuous  vis- 
iting. I have  been  a Bohemian  for  nearly  seventy- 
seven  years,  and  I have  resolved  to  remain  a Bohe- 
mian. Society  has  never  yet  got  me  into  harness,  and 
there  is  still  enough  of  the  colt  in  me  to  run  at  sight 
of  a halter.  So  you  may  hang  up  your  lasso,  my  lady. 

I hope  you  are  careful  about  going  too  near  your 
windows.  1 have  no  temptation  to  such  pitch-poling 
mj^self,  but  as  your  imagination  seems  active  on  the 
subject,  it  behooves  you  to  take  care.  I certainly 
could  not  throw  myself  out  without  considerable  fore- 
thought and  preparation.  Therefore,  if  such  a somer- 
sault should  occur,  you  may  inform  the  interviewers 
of  the  press  that  you  have  my  authority  for  declaring 
that  it  was  done  on  purpose.  Thereupon  paragraphs 
will  appear  stating  that  Mrs.  Child  was  the  author 
of  several  books  of  water-color  reputation,  and  though 
a somewliat  eccentric  old  woman,  was  generally  con- 
sidered to  have  common  sense  ; and,  as  it  was  not 
known  that  any  peculiarly  heavy  trouble  weighed 
upon  her  mind,  her  friends  were  at  a loss  how  to  ex- 
plain her  rash  proceeding.  You,  perhaps,  knowing 
that  I think  I have  a soul  (excuse  the  word),  may 
conclude  I was  in  a hurry  to  go  and  see  what  was  to 
become  of  it.  I remain,  your  truly  attached 

Bird  O ’Freedom. 

MRS.  child’s  reminiscences  of  GEORGE  THOMPSON. 
READ  BY  MR.  GARRISON  AT  A MEETING  IN  COMMEMO- 
RATION OF  GEORGE  THOMPSON,  BOSTON,  FEBRUARY 
2,  1879. 

My  most  vivid  recollection  of  George  Thompson  is 
of  his  speaking  at  Julian  Hall,  on  a memorable  oc- 
casion. Mr.  Stetson,  then  keeper  of  the  Tremont 


LETTERS. 


249 


House,  was  present  with  a large  number  of  his  slave- 
holding guests,  who  had  come  to  Boston  to  make  their 
annual  purchases  of  the  merchants.  Their  presence 
seemed  to  inspire  Mr.  Thompson.  Never,  even  from 
his  eloquent  lips,  did  I hear  such  scathing  denuncia- 
tions of  slavery.  The  exasperated  Southerners  could 
not  contain  their  wrath.  Their  lips  were  tightly 
compressed,  their  hands  clenched  ; and  now  and  then 
a muttered  curse  was  audible.  Finally,  one  of  them 
shouted,  “ If  we  had  you  down  South,  we ’d  cut  off 
your  ears.”  Mr.  Thompson  folded  his  arms  in  his 
characteristic  manner,  looked  calmly  at  the  speaker, 
and  replied,  “ Well,  sir,  if  you  did  cut  off  my  ears, 
I should  still  cry  aloud,  ‘ he  that  hath  ears  to  hear, 
let  him  hear.’  ” 

Meanwhile  my  heart  was  thumping  like  a sledge- 
hammer, for,  before  the  speaking  began,  Samuel  J. 
May  had  come  to  me  and  said  in  a very  low  tone, 
“ Do  you  see  how  the  walls  are  lined  by  stout  truck- 
men, brandishing  their  whips  ? They  are  part  of 
a large  mob  around  the  entrance  in  Federal  Street, 
employed  by  the  Southerners  to  seize  George  Thomp- 
son and  carry  him  to  a South  Carolina  vessel  in  wait- 
ing at  Long  Wharf.  A carriage  with  swift  horses  is 
at  the  door,  and  these  Southerners  are  now  exulting 
in  the  anticipation  of  lynching  him.  But  behind  that 
large  green  curtain  at  the  back  of  the  platform  there 
is  a door  leading  to  the  chamber  of  a warehouse.  We 
have  the  key  to  that  door,  which  leads  to  a rear  en- 
trance of  the  building  on  Milk  Street.  There  the  abo- 
litionists have  stationed  a carriage  with  swift  horses 
and  a colored  driver,  who  of  course  will  do  his  best 
for  George  Thompson.  Now  as  soon  as  Mr.  Thomp- 
son ceases  speaking,  we  want  the  anti-slavery  women 


250 


LETTERS. 


to  gather  round  him  and  appear  to  detain  him  in  eager 
conversation.  He  will  listen  and  reply,  but  keep  im- 
perceptibly moving  backward  toward  the  green  cur- 
tain. You  will  all  follow  him,  and  when  he  vanishes 
behind  the  curtain  you  will  continue  to  stand  close 
together  and  appear  to  be  still  talking  with  him.” 

At  the  close  of  the  meeting,  twenty-five  or  thirty 
of  us  women  clustered  round  Mr.  Thompson  and 
obeyed  the  directions  we  had  received.  When  he  had 
disappeared  from  our  midst,  there  was  quiet  for  two 
or  three  minutes,  interrupted  only  by  our  busy  talk- 
ing. But  the  Southerners  soon  began  to  stand  on 
tiptoe  and  survey  the  platform  anxiously.  Soon  a 
loud  oath  was  heard,  accompanied  by  the  exclama- 
tion, “ He ’s  gone  ! ” Then  such  a thundering  stam- 
pede as  there  was  down  the  front  stairs  I have  never 
heard.  We  remained  in  the  hall,  and  presently  Sam- 
uel J.  May  came  to  us  so  agitated  that  he  was  pale  to 
the  very  lips.  “ Thank  God,  he  is  saved ! ” he  ex- 
claimed ; and  we  wrung  his  hand  with  hearts  too  full 
for  speech. 

The  Boston  newspaper  press,  as  usual,  presented  a 
united  front  in  sympathy  with  the  slave-holders.  They 
were  full  of  indignation  against  the  impudent  Eng- 
lishman who  dared  to  suggest  to  enlightened  Amer- 
icans that  there  was  a contradiction  between  their 
slave-laws  and  the  Declaration  of  Independence.  The 
“ BoHon  Post,”  preeminent  in  that  sort  of  advocacy 
of  democratic  dignity,  was  very  facetious  about  the 
cowardly  Englishman  and  his  female  militia.  But 
they  were  all  in  the  dark  concerning  the  manner  of 
his  escape  ; for  as  the  door  behind  the  curtain  was 
known  to  very  few,  it  remained  a mystery  to  all  ex- 
cept the  abolitionists.  L.  Maria  Child. 


LETTERS. 


251 


TO  MISS  A.  B.  FRANCIS  IN  EUROPE. 

Boston,  February  21,  1879. 

Your  letter  came,  followed  by  the  picture,  which 
arrived  two  days  before  my  birthday.  The  little 
Picciola  is  a perfect  beauty.  It  will  be  a “ joy  for- 
ever *’  to  look  at  it.  I have  always  been  in  love  with 
Richter’s  delineation  of  children.  Indeed,  the  Ger- 
mans generally  excel  all  other  artists  in  pictures  of 
children.  They  give  them  an  indescribable  air  of 
naturalness  and  simplicity,  which  I like  far  better 
than  the  theatrical  gracefulness  of  the  French. 

I should  think  one  might  have  rather  too  much  of 
art  galleries.  I always  supposed  that  it  would  be 
confusing  to  my  mind  to  wander  about  in  a wilder- 
ness of  pictures.  As  for  ‘‘  dead  Christs  and  crucifix- 
ions,” and  saints  stuck  full  of  arrow^s,  and  women 
carrying  a dead  man’s  head,  and  other  lugubrious 
subjects,  I dislike  them  all.  One  “glorious  human 
boy  ” is  worth  the  whole  host ; to  say  nothing  of  my 
charming  little  Picciola. 

The  labor  question  continues  to  seethe  and  grum- 
ble, like  a volcano  about  to  explode.  Laborers,  in- 
stead of  serving  their  own  interests  by  leaving  off 
smoking  and  drinking,  are  clamoring  for  the  expul- 
sion of  the  industrious  and  frugal  Chinese.  A great 
force  is  brought  to  bear  upon  Congress  to  procure  the 
abolition  of  our  treaty  with  China  ; a measure  which 
would  be  dishonest  and  disgraceful  to  the  United 
States,  and  extremely  injurious  to  our  trade  with 
China. 

Garrison,  Phillips,  Ward  Beecher,  and  others  are 
trying  their  utmost  to  prevent  such  a violation  of 
principle.  H.  W.  Beecher,  in  one  of  his  public 


252 


LETTERS. 


speeches,  said,  in  his  facetious  way  : “ It  is  com- 
plained that  the  Chinese  are  idolaters,  and  therefore 
not  fit  to  associate  with  Christians.  We  have  stoned 
them,  and  clubbed  them,  and  persecuted  them,  and 
tried  religion  upon  them  in  almost  every  shape,  and 
still  they  won’t  embrace  it ! ” 

TO  MRS.  S.  B.  SHAW. 

Boston,  1879. 

I keep  working,  because  I am  quite  sure  that  no 
particle  of  goodness  or  truth  is  ever  really  lost,  how- 
ever appearances  may  be  to  the  contrary.  But  in 
trying  to  help  others,  it  is  sometimes  difficult  to  de- 
cide what  is  good.  I have  several  poor  souls  in  tow, 
trying  to  guide  them  into  comfort  through,  righteous 
paths.  But  I make  them  so  dependent  that  I some- 
times feel  I do  them  harm  rather  than  good.  Yet 
what  is  to  be  done  ? They  are  so  ignorant  and  weak- 
minded,  they  cannot  rely  upon  themselves. 

I admired  the  spirit  of  Mr.  Curtis’s  Letter,  and  I 
entirely  agree  with  the  principle  he  inculcates.  I 
have  always  resisted  the  idea  of  conventions  and  cau- 
cuses dictating  to  individuals  how  they  shall  vote.  It 
is  utterly  subversive  of  republicanism,  and  would 
make  an  oligarchy  of  the  government.  I thank  him 
cordially  for  speaking  a true  word,.- which  greatly 
needed  to  be  spoken. 

TO  THE  SAME. 

Watland,  1879. 

I think  there  is  sufficient  evidence  of  another  state 
of  existence,  and  of  the  possibility  of  communication. 
But  beyond  this  glimpse,  I think  it  is  all  precarious 
and  unreliable.  One  had  better  spend  his  life  in 


LETTERS. 


253 


chasing  shadows  than  in  seeking  for  these  “ manifes- 
tations.” But  I agree  with  Victor  Hugo,  who  says: 
“To  elude  a phenomenon,  to  turn  our  backs  upon  it 
laughing,  is  to  make  bankruptcy  of  truth.  The  phe- 
nomenon of  the  ancient  tripod,  and  of  the  modern 
table-turning,  has  a claim  to  be  observed,  like  all 
other  phenomena.  Root  out  the  worthless  weeds  of 
error,  but  harvest  the  facts.  When  was  chaff  made 
a pretext  for  refusing  the  wheat  ? ” 

Science  pronounces  it  entirely  illogical  to  suppose 
that  we  exist  as  individuals  after  our  bodies  are  re- 
solved into  the  elements.  But  logic  is  a science  ex- 
tremely narrow  in  its  limitations.  There  may  be 
phases  of  existence  as  much  beyond  its  cognizance  as 
birds  are  beyond  the  observation  of  fishes.  Since  Em- 
erson and  Tennyson  have  been  evolved  out  of  the 
original  cave  men,  it  does  not  seem  to  me  irrational  to 
suppose  that  a continuity  of  the  process  may  produce 
seraphs.  I know  that  the  theory  of  evolution  is  a con- 
tinual changing  of  forms,  and  that  each  form,  in  giving 
place  to  another,  loses  its  own  identity.  But  when 
evolution  has  arrived  at  such  a stage  as  man,  a being 
capable  of  conceiving  of  higher  planes  of  existence, 
may  it  not  have  produced  a state  of  things  in  which 
continued  consciousness  through  changing  forms  be- 
comes possible  ? There  is  nothing  supernatural.  All 
things  are  produced  and  governed  by  universal  laws. 
But  the  trouble  is,  an  immense  domain  of  those  laws 
is  beyond  our  knowledge.  I bow  respectfully  to  Sci- 
ence and  I think  she  is  the  safest  guide  we  have. 
But,  after  all,  she  does  not  go  very  far. 


254 


LETTERS. 


TO  MRS.  S.  E.  SEWALL. 

Wayland,  June  17,  1879. 

During  these  weeks,  so  filled  with  memories  of 
our  friend  Garrison,  I have  seemed  to  feel  the  pres- 
ence of  you  and  your  dear,  good  husband,  as  you  say 
you  have  felt  mine.  I thought  of  you  continually  on 
the  day  of  the  funeral,  and  while  reading  the  beauti- 
ful tributes  offered  by  Phillips  and  Weld  and  Whit- 
tier. If  his  spirit  was  there,  how  happy  he  must 
have  been  ! The  general  laudation  in  the  newspapers 
was  truly  wonderful.  If  any  prophet  had  foretold  it 
thirty  years  ago,  who  would  have  believed  him  ? It 
seems  to  me  there  never  was  so  great  a moral  revolu- 
tion in  so  short  a time.  It  was  elevating  and  thrill- 
ing to  read  the  funeral  services,  and  it  must  have 
been  much  more  so  to  have  heard  them.  If  Mr.  Gar- 
rison was  mistaken  in  his  strong  belief  that  individ- 
ual, conscious  existence  continued  elsewhere,  he  will 
never  know  of  his  mistake  ; but  I think  he  was  not 
mistaken.  I suppose  you  noticed  that  Whittier  recog- 
nized his  spirit  as  still  active  in  defending  the  right. 
How  could  such  a spirit  die  ? . . . 

I should  think  that  painful  Pocasset  tragedy  might 
open  people’s  eyes  to  the  absurdity  of  taking  the  rec- 
ords of  a semi-barbarous  people  for  an  inspired  rule 
of  life  in  the  nineteenth  century.  Monstrous  as  the 
act  seems,  it  is  a legitimate  result  of  eulogizing  Abra- 
ham for  his  readiness  to  sacrifice  his  son,  and  of  as- 
cribing the  same  thing  to  God. 

TO  MISS  ANNE  WHITNEY. 

Wayland,  June,  1879. 

I am  glad  you  had  such  a pleasant  evening  with 


LETTERS. 


255 


Garrison.  He  has  been  a singularly  fortunate  man. 
Fortunate  in  accomplishing  his  purposes ; fortunate 
in  drawing  around  him  the  best  spirits  of  his  time ; 
fortunate  in  having  an  amiable,  sympathizing  wife ; 
fortunate  in  having  excellent,  devoted  children,  whose 
marriages  have  suited  him,  and  who  have  lived  in 
proximity  to  him  ; fortunate  in  having  his  energies 
developed  by  struggle  in  early  life  ; fortunate  in  later 
years  in  being  at  ease  in  his  worldly  circumstances  ; 
and  most  fortunate  of  all  in  dying  before  his  mind 
became  weakened.  Death  will  be  to  him  merely 
passing  out  of  one  room  filled  with  friends  into  an- 
other room  still  more  full  of  friends. 

It  is  wonderful  how  one  mortal  may  affect  the  des- 
tiny of  a multitude.  I remember  very  distinctly  the 
first  time  I ever  saw  Garrison.  I little  thought  then 
that  the  whole  pattern  of  my  life-web  would  be 
changed  by  that  introduction.  I was  then  all  ab- 
sorbed in  poetry  and  painting,  soaring  aloft  on 
Psyche-wings  into  the  ethereal  regions  of  mysticism. 
He  got  hold  of  the  strings  of  my  conscience  and 
pulled  me  into  reforms.  It  is  of  no  use  to  imagine 
what  might  have  been,  if  I had  never  met  him.  Old 
dreams  vanished,  old  associates  departed,  and  all 
things  became  new.  But  the  new  surroundings  were 
all  alive,  and  they  brought  a moral  discipline  worth 
ten  times  the  sacrifice  they  cost.  But  why  use  the 
word  sacrifice  ? I was  never  conscious  of  any  sacri- 
fice. A new  stimulus  seized  my  whole  being,  and 
carried  me  whithersoever  it  would.  “ I could  not 
otherwise,  so  help  me  God  ! ” How  the  same  circum- 
stances changed  the  whole  coloring  of  life  for  Charles 
Sumner  and  Wendell  Phillips  ! The  hour  of  national 
expiation  had  come,  and  men  and  women  must  needs 


256 


LETTERS. 


obey  the  summons  to  accomplish  the  work  through 
means  they  could  not  foresee. 

TO  MRS.  H.  W.  SEWALL. 

Wayland,  August  25,  1879. 

That  Mrs. is  the  plague  of  my  life.  It  is  the 

fourth  or  fifth  time  she  has  been  “ pervading  my  de- 
partment, wanting  to  know.”  I don’t  remember  when 
the  “ Juvenile  Miscellany  ” began,  and  what  sort  of 
interest  can  it  have  for  the  public  ? An  impertinent 
reporter  of  the interviewed  me,  and  in  that  pa- 

per last  June  informed  the  public  of  the  figures  in 
my  carpet  and  the  color  of  my  gown,  to  which  he 
appended  some  literary  dates. 

Few  things  “ rile  me  up  ” like  this  impertinent 
curiosity,  which,  after  all,  is  only  a fashionable  way  of 
earning  a penny  without  work.  There  is  nothing  in 
my  personal  history  either  “ new,  useful,  or  entertain- 
ing.” 

I thank  you  cordially  for  the  books.  ...  You  say 
you  “ like  human  beings  better  than  books.”  I like 
some  human  beings  better  than  books,  but  not  many. 
Books  have  one  very  great  advantage  over  people ; 
you  can  put  them  aside  whenever  you  don’t  care  to 
be  with  them  any  longer.  Moreover,  I can  make  up 
a contemptuous  mouth  and  say,  “ Pshaw ! all  bosh ! ” 
when  a book  says  what  I don’t  like,  but  it  won’t  do 
to  treat  people  with  so  much  freedom. 

TO  MISS  A.  B.  FRANCIS. 

Boston,  December  24,  1879. 

I know  of  nothing  very  interesting  in  the  literary 
world,”  except  a small  volume  called  the  “ Light  of 
Asia,”  by  the  English  Mr.  Arnold,  who  married  W. 


LETTERS. 


257 


H.  Cbamiing’s  daughter.  It  recites  the  well-known 
legends  about  Buddha,  in  a form  of  singular  poetic 
beauty.  He  made  a great  mistake,  that  good  “ Lord 
Buddha.”  It  would  have  been  more  wise  to  have 
taught  his  fellow-creatures  how  to  raise  more  grain, 
weave  more  cloth,  and  take  better  care  of  their  health, 
than  it  was  to  descend  into  beggary  with  them.  But 
there  is  something  very  touching  and  sublime  in  his 
determination  to  quit  regal  splendor  and  luxury,  and 
live  among  the  poor  and  suffering  like  a brother.  The 
book  sells  well  on  account  of  its  literary  merit,  and 
is  helping  many  other  quiet  influences  to  enable  hu- 
man souls  to  recognize  their  spiritual  kinship. 

TO  MRS.  S.  B.  SHAW. 

1880. 

I wish  you  could  see  Miss  Whitney’s  Sam.  Adams. 
I never  saw  an  image  so  full  of  life ; not  even  the 
Minute  Man  at  Concord.  An  acquaintance  sent  a 
very  human-looking  doll  to  a little  friend,  five  years 
old.  When  a neighbor  exclaimed,  “What  a pretty 
doll ! ” the  child  said,  “ You  must  n’t  call  it  doll, 
it ’s  a little  girl.  She  can’t  walk  and  talk  now, 
but  she  will  by  and  by.”  When  I returned  from 
Miss  Whitney’s  studio,  I was  asked,  “ How  did  you 
like  the  statue?”  I replied,  “You  must  not  call  it 
a statue,  it ’s  a man.  It  will  walk  and  talk  by  and 

by.” 

TO  THEODORE  D.  WELD. 

Watland,  July  10,  1880. 

I tbank  you  cordially  for  the  interesting  Memorial 
of  your  excellent  wife.^  Such  a benediction  is  rarely 
bestowed  on  any  man  as  to  have  loved  and  been  be- 
^ Mrs.  Angelina  Grimke  Weld. 

17 


258 


LETTERS. 


loved  by  such  a woman.  How  dim  and  cold  all  the 
pictures  of  tlie  old  saints  seem,  when  brought  into 
comparison  with  the  clear  light  of  her  conscience, 
and  the  glowing  warmth  of  her  love  for  her  fellow- 
creatures. 

The  memory  of  the  early  anti-slavery  days  is  very 
sacred  to  me.  The  Holy  Spirit  did  actually  descend 
upon  men  and  women  in  tongues  of  flame.  Political 
and  theological  prejudices  and  personal  ambitions 
were  forgotten  in  sympathy  for  the  wrongs  of  the 
helpless,  and  in  the  enthusiasm  to  keep  the  fire  of 
freedom  from  being  extinguished  on  our  national 
altar. 

All  suppression  of  selfishness  makes  the  moment 
great ; and  mortals  were  never  more  sublimely  for- 
getful of  self  than  were  the  abolitionists  in  those 
early  days,  before  the  moral  force  which  emanated 
from  them  had  become  available  as  a political  power. 
Ah,  my  friend,  that  is  the  only  true  church  organi- 
zation, when  heads  and  hearts  unite  in  working  for 
the  welfare  of  the  human  race ! 

And  how  wonderfully  everything  came  as  it  was 
wanted  ! How  quickly  the  mingled  flute  and  trum- 
pet eloquence  ” of  Phillips  responded  to  the  clarion 
call  of  Garrison ! How  the  clear,  rich  bugle-tones  of 
Whittier  wakened  echoes  in  all  living  souls ! How 
wealth  poured  from  the  ever-open  hands  of  Arthur 
Tappan,  Gerrit  Smith,  the  Winslows,  and  thousands 
of  others  who  gave  even  more  largely  in  proportion 
to  their  smaller  means  ! 

How  the  time-serving  policy  of  Dr.  Beecher  drove 
the  bold,  brave  boys  of  Lane  Seminary  into  the  bat- 
tle-field ! Politicians  said,  “ The  abolitionists  exag- 
gerate the  evil ; they  do  not  know  whereof  they  af- 


LETTERS. 


259 


firm;”  and  in  response  up  rose  Angelina  and  her 
sister  Sarah,  shrinking  from  the  task  imposed  upon 
them  by  conscience,  but  upheld  by  the  divine  power 
of  truth  to  deliver  this  message  to  the  world  : “We 
know  whereof  we  affirm ; for  we  were  born  and  bred 
in  South  Carolina;  and  we  know  that  abolitionists 
have  not  told,  and  could  not  tell,  half  the  horrors  of 
slavery.” 

Then,  like  a cloud  full  of  thunder  and  lightning, 
Frederick  Douglass  loomed  above  the  horizon.  He 
knew  whereof  he  affirmed,  for  he  had  been  a slave. 
Congress  seemed  in  danger  of  becoming  a mere  “ den 
of  thieves,”  when  Daniel  Webster  walked  out  with 
Ichabod  written  on  his  garments ; and,  strong  in  moral 
majesty,  in  walked  Charles  Sumner,  a man  so  honest 
and  pure  that  he  could  not  see  any  other  line  than  a 
straight  one.  What  if  the  pulpits  were  silent  ? The- 
odore Parker,  that  Boanerges  of  the  clerical  ranks, 
spoke  in  tones  strong  and  far-reaching  as  a thousand 
voices. 

Those  were  indeed  inspiring  days.  I look  back 
lovingly  upon  them ; and  I find  it  very  hard  to  realize 
that  so  much  of  it  has  passed  into  oblivion,  and  that 
whatever  remains  is  merely  the  cold  record  of  history. 

Your  good  and  great  Angelina  and  yourself  are 
prominent  in  these  memory  pictures  of  a thrilling 
and  exalting  period.  How  well  I remember  her  pale 
countenance  and  trembling  limbs,  when  she  rose  to 
address  the  Legislature  of  Massachusetts  ! The  femi- 
nine shrinking  was  soon  overcome  by  her  sense  of  the 
duty  before  her,  and  her  words  flowed  forth,  free,  forci- 
ble, and  well-  arranged.  Those  who  went  from  that 
hall  unconverted  were  those  who,  being  “ convinced 
against  their  will,  were  of  the  same  opinion  still.” 


260 


LETTERS. 


TO  FRANCIS  G.  SHAW. 

Wayland,  September,  1880. 

I thank  you  for  the  “ Life  of  General  Garfield.”  I 
did  not  think  I should  ever  again  take  so  much  in- 
terest in  a political  campaign  as  I do  in  his  election. 
I read  every  word  of  his  speech  on  “ Honest  Money,” 
eight  columns  long.  I am  not  well  posted  upon  finan- 
cial questions,  and  have  had  rather  a distaste  for  such 
controversies.  But  his  statements  were  so  very  plain 
that  I understood  every  sentence  ; and  my  common 
sense  and  my  moral  sense  cordially  responded  thereto. 
Everything  I have  read  of  his  seems  to  me  to  have  the 
ring  of  true  metal.  I am  constantly  reminded  of  the 
practical  good  sense  and  sturdy  honesty  of  Francis 
Jackson. 

I was  especially  pleased  with  the  emphasis  he 
places  on  the  assertion  that  there  was  a right  and 
wrong  in  the  War  of  the  Rebellion  ; I would  not  have 
one  unnecessary  word  said  that  would  hurt  the  feel- 
ings or  wound  the  pride  of  the  South.  They  acted 
just  as  we  should  have  acted  if  we  had  been  educated 
under  the  same  institution.  But  their  institution  was 
bad,  and  the  means  they  took  to  sustain  and  extend  it 
were  bad.  I have  been  disgusted,  and  somewhat  dis- 
couraged, by  the  “ mush  of  concession  ” that  has 
passed  current  under  the  name  of  magnanimity.  The 
tendency  to  speak  of  both  sides  as  equally  in  the 
right,  because  they  both  fought  bravely,  is  utterly 
wrong  in  principle  and  demoralizing  in  its  influence. 


LETTERS. 


261 


TO  MRS.  S.  S.  RUSSELL. 

Wayland,  September  23,  1880. 

My  precious  FRium),  — I have  not  answered 
your  last  kind  letter  as  soon  as  my  heart  dictated, 
because  I have  waited  in  hopes  to  give  a better  ac- 
count of  myself.  ...  At  last,  by  the  help  of  my 
friend  Mrs.  S.,  I have  found  a pleasant  old  doctor  in 
Weston  who  has  made  rheumatism  his  specialty  and 
been  very  successful  in  curing  it.  He  is  very  posi- 
tive that  a cure  will  be  effected  in  two  or  three  weeks. 

Mrs. has  been  very  kind  and  efficient,  and  the 

neighbors  very  attentive.  It  is  a great  blessing,  also, 
that  my  general  health  has  been  and  is  extremely 
good.  ... 

Some  of  my  poor  neighbors  have  been  in  trouble 
owing  to  protracted  illness,  and  I shall  make  up  to 
them  the  days  when  they  have  not  been  able  to 
work.  The  worthy  young  man  who  comes  here  to 
sleep  needs  some  help  about  learning  a trade,  and  I 
am  going  to  give  him  a lift.  Divers  other  projects  I 
have  in  my  mind,  and  I expect  to  accomplish  them  all 
by  the  help  of  Aladdin’s  lamp.  Oh,  it  is  such  a luxury 
to  be  able  to  give  without  being  afraid.  I try  not  to 
be  Quixotic,  but  I want  to  rain  down  blessings  on  all 
the  world,  in  token  of  thankfulness  for  the  blessings 
that  have  been  rained  down  upon  me.  I should 
dearly  love  to  look  in  upon  you  at  Newport,  as  you 
kindly  suggest,  but  it  is  impossible.  I once  made 
a short  visit  to  Dr.  Channing  there,  and  the  loveli- 
ness of  the  scenery  made  an  abiding  impression  on 
my  memory.  Your  most  grateful  and  loving  old 
friend,  L.  Maria  Child. 


APPENDIX. 


EEMARKS  OF  WENDELL  PHILLIPS  AT  THE  FUNERAL 
OF  LYDIA  MARIA  CHILD,  OCTOBER  23,  1880. 

Mrs.  Child’s  character  was  one  of  rare  elements,  and 
their  combination  in  one  person  rarer  still.  She  was  the 
outgrowth  of  New  England  theology,  traditions,  and  habits 
— the  finest  fruit  of  these : but  she  could  have  been  born 
and  bred  nowhere  but  in  New  England. 

There  were  all  the  charms  and  graceful  elements  which 
we  call  feminine,  united  with  a masculine  grasp  and  vigor  ; 
soimd  judgment  and  great  breadth ; large  common  sense  and 
capacity  for  every-day  usefulness  ; “ endurance,  foresight, 
strength,  and  skill.” 

“ A creature  not  too  bright  and  good 
For  human  nature’s  daily  food.” 

But  lavishly  endowed,  her  gifts  were  not  so  remarkable 
as  the  admirable  conscientiousness  with  which  she  used 
them.  Indeed,  an  earnest  purpose,  vigilant  conscientious- 
ness, were  the  keys  to  her  whole  life  and  its  best  explana- 
tion. 

We  shall  better  understand  her  life  if  we  remember  it 
was  governed  by  the  divine  rule,  “ Bear  ye  one  another’s 
burdens.”  This,  in  fact,  explains  her  courage,  her  economy, 
her  painstaking  industry,  her  interest  and  activity  in  re- 
forms, and  the  scrupulous  fidelity  with  which  she  cultivated 
every  power. 


264 


APPENDIX. 


How  early  her  mind  ripened  and  in  what  girlhood  it 
opened  to  the  most  advanced  thought  of  her  times  ! And 
the  first  draught  of  fame,  usually  so  intoxicating,  never  dis- 
turbed her  clear  judgment  or  tempted  her  to  any  imdue 
compromise. 

There  were  few  women  authors  when,  in  1821-22,  she 
published  her  first  novels.  The  success  of  these  was  so 
brilliant,  and  a woman’s  success  then  so  rare,  that  the  Boston 
Athenaeum,  — still  the  most  fashionable  and  aristocratic,  and 
then  the  only,  pubhc  library  — paid  her  the  almost  unique 
compliment  of  sending  her  a free  ticket  of  admission: 
When,  in  1833,  she  published  her  “ Apj^eal  in  behalf  of  that 
Class  of  Americans  called  Africans,”  she  of  course  sent  that 
library  a copy.  Whether  they  ever  placed  the  book  on  their 
shelves  I do  not  know,  but  at  any  rate  the  directors  im- 
mediately withdrew  her  ticket  of  admission.  And  a prom- 
inent lawyer,  afterwards  a notorious  attorney-general  of 
Massachusetts,  is  said  to  have  used  tongs  to  fling  the  ob- 
noxious volume  out  of  his  window. 

This  is  a sad  record  ; but  to  recall  it  is  only  fair  tribute 
to  the  young  author,  who  never  faltered  ; only  gave  to  the 
hated  and  struggling  cause  a more  public  adhesion  and  a 
more  liberal  support.  Hardly  ever  was  there  a costlier  sac- 
rifice. Few  of  us  can  appreciate  it  to-day.  Narrow  means 
just  changing  to  ease  ; after  a weary  struggle,  fame  and  so- 
cial position  in  her  grasp  ; every  door  opening  before  her  ; 
the  sweetness  of  having  her  genius  recognized. 

No  one  had  supposed  that  independence  of  opinion  on 
a moral  question  would  wreck  all  this.  It  was  a thunder- 
bolt from  a summer  sky.  But  confronted  suddenly  with 
the  alternative,  gagged  life  or  total  wreck,  — she  never  hesi- 
tated. 

One  blow,  and  the  spreading  tree  is  dead.  At  the  call  of 
duty  the  young  woman  struck  it  without  repining,  and  saw 
the  whole  scene  change  at  once.  Obloquy  and  hard  work 
iU-jDaid  ; almost  every  door  shut  against  her,  the  name  she 
had  made  a talisman  turned  to  a reproach,  and  life  hence- 


APPENDIX.  265 

forth  a sacrifice.  How  seregaely  she  took  up  that  cross,  how 
bravely  she  bore  it  almost  till  life’s  close  ! 

In  religious  speculation  Mrs.  Child  moved  in  the  very 
van.  Her  studies  and  friendships  were  with  the  foremost 
scholars.  But  it  was  not  merely  indifferentism,  dissent, 
and  denial  — that  negative  and  aggressive  element  to  which 
Emerson  has,  of  late,  so  strongly  objected.  She  was  pene- 
trated with  a deep  religious  fervor  ; as  devotional,  as  pro- 
fomid  and  tender  a sentiment  as  the  ignorant  devotee. 

It  has  been  my  lot  to  find  more  bigotry  and  narrowness 
among  free  religionists  than  among  their  opponents.  But 
Mrs.  Child  in  her  many-sidedness  did  not  merely  bear  with 
other  creeds ; she  heartily  sympathized  with  all  forms  of  re- 
hgious  belief,  pagan,  classic,  oriental,  and  Christian.  All 
she  asked  was  that  they  should  be  real.  That  condition 
present,  she  saw  lovingly  their  merits  and  gave  to  each  the 
fullest  credit  for  its  honesty  of  purpose. 

Her  “ Progress  of  Religious  Ideas  ” was  no  mere  intel- 
lectual effort.  It  was  the  natural  utterance  of  a deep,  kindly, 
and  respectful  sympathy  with  each.  There  was  no  foolish 
tenderness,  no  weak  sentimentality  about  her.  She  held 
every  one,  as  she  did  herself,  strictly  to  the  sternest  respon- 
sibility. Still  there  was  the  most  lovable  candor  and  an  ad- 
mirably level  fairness  of  judgment ; always  making  every  al- 
lowance and  believing  to  the  last  in  honesty  of  purpose. 

She  practised  the  most  rigid  economy  always  and  in 
even  the  minutest  j:>articular.  Her  own  hands  ministered 
to  her  wants  and  those  of  her  husband ; waste  was  almost 
crime.  But  this  hard  and  painstaking  care  with  one  hand 
was  only  that  the  other  might  be  full  for  liberal  gifts. 

Franklin  has  had  on  one  or  two  generations  an  evil  influ- 
ence that  made  them  save  only  to  accumulate,  resulting  in 
that  despicable  virtue  “ prudence  ; ” despicable  when  it  saps 
independence  and  shuts  up  the  over-careful  hand. 

But  Mrs.  Child’s  prudence  never  held  back  one  needed 
bold  word,  and  was  only  to  make  her  more  able  to  give. 
There  was  a delicate  shrinking  from  receiving  too  many 


266 


APPENDIX. 


favors  ; a pride  of  independence  that  never  left  her.  To 
one  who  strove  to  do  for  her  unpaid,  she  invented  ways  of 
remuneration  until  the  balance  of  obligation  was  often  on 
his  side. 

It  was  like  her  to  refuse  a gift  of  several  thousand  dol- 
lars, and,  again  when  I suggested  that  the  large-hearted 
friend  who  offered  it  had  more  than  she  could  do  to  wisely 
distribute  her  income,  and  that  Mrs.  Cliild  could  and  should 
help  her  in  that,  it  was  like  her  also  to  change  her  mind, 
accept  the  trust,  portion  out  every  dollar  of  income  while 
she  lived,  and  devise  it,  at  her  death,  to  the  ideas  and 
movements  she  loved. 

And  yet  this  princely  giver  kept  till  death  the  cheap, 
plain  fashion  of  dress  which  early  narrow  means  had  en- 
forced, — used  an  envelope  twice,  and  never  wrote  on  a 
whole  sheet  when  half  a one  would  suffice.  “ I do  not  think, 
Mrs.  Child,  you  can  afford  to  give  so  much  just  now,”  I 
said  to  her  once,  when,  in  some  exigency  of  the  freedmen’s 
cause,  she  told  me  to  send  them  from  her  a hundred  dollars. 
“ Well,”  she  answered,  ‘‘I  will  think  it  over,  and  send  you 
word  to-morrow.”  To-morrow  word  came,  “Please  send 
them  two  hundred.” 

Her  means  were  never  large  : never  so  large  that  a woman 
of  her  class  would  think  she  had  anything  to  give  away. 
But  her  spirit  was  Spartan.  When  she  had  nothing  for 
others,  she  worked  to  get  it.  She  wrote  me  once,  “ I have 
four  hundred  dollars  to  my  credit  at  my  puhhshers  for  my 
hook  on  ‘ Looking  towards  Sunset.’  Please  get  it  and  give 
it  to  the  freedmen.” 

“ I want  a dictionary,”  one  said  to  her  whom  she  was  al- 
ways importuning  to  allow  her  to  give  liim  something,  “ if 
you  will  insist  on  giving  it  to  me  ; it  wiU  cost  ten  dollars.” 
She  sent  the  most  valuable,  costing  double.  But  we  who 
knew  her  cannot  forget  that  this  was  not  a hard  life  nor  a 
harsh  one.  It  bubbled  up  with  joy.  Threescore  years  and 
ten  had  still  the  freshness  of  girlhood,  the  spirits  notliing 
could  dull  or  quench  ; the  ready  wit,  quick  retort,  mirtliful 


APPENDIX. 


267 


jest.  Her  memory  was  a storehouse  of  fact,  proverb,  curi- 
ous incident,  fine  saying,  homely  wisdom,  touching  story, 
brave  act ; and  hence  her  conversation,  fraught  with  all  this 
treasure,  was  indescribably  charming.  Few  scholars  ever 
gave  such  fair  play  to  their  mother-wit ; were  so  little  over- 
loaded and  cumbered  with  massive  accumulations.  What 
variety  of  gifts  ! everything  but  poet.  Narrative,  fiction, 
journalism,  history,  sketches  of  daily  city  life,  ethics,  conso- 
lation for  the  evening  of  fife,  ennobling  our  nature  by  show- 
ing how,  under  all  error,  there  lives  the  right  purpose  and 
principle.  And  she  had  nothing  of  the  scholar’s  disease, 
timidity  and  selfislmess.  Her  hand  was  always  ready  for 
any  drudgery  of  service.  It  was  she,  as  much  as  her  lion- 
hearted  husband,  who,  at  their  own  cost,  saved  Boston  from 
the  crime  and  infamy  of  murdering  the  twelve  pirates  be- 
fore they  had  even  the  mocltery  of  a trial.  The  fallen 
woman,  the  over-tempted  inebriate,  she  could  take  to  her 
home  and  watch  over  month  after  month.  And  prison 
doors  were  no  bar  to  her  when  a friendless  woman  needed 
help  or  countenance  agamst  an  angry  community. 

Her  courage  was  not  merely  intellectual.  I remember 
well  her  resolute  rebuke,  spoken  in  the  street,  to  the  leader 
of  one  of  the  Sunday  mobs  of  1861,  — so  stern,  brief,  and. 
pungent  that  it  left  him  dumb.  She  was  among  the  first  to 
welcome  John  Brown.  While  anti-slavery  senators  and  gov- 
ernors excused  him  as  a “ madman,”  and  leading  reformers 
smiled  pityingly  on  the  “ fanatic,”  her  sword  leapt  from  its 
scabbard  in  his  defence.  Wliile  it  yet  hung  in  the  balance 
whether  the  nation  should  acknowledge  its  prophet  or  cru- 
cify him,  she  asked  to  share  his  prison,  and  with  brave  ap- 
peal stirred  the  land  to  see  the  prophet  vouchsafed  to  it. 

She  had  much  of  that  marvellous  power  which  disinter- 
estedness always  gives.  We  felt  that  neither  fame,  nor  gain, 
nor  danger,  nor  calumny  had  any  weight  with  her  ; that  she 
sought  honestly  to  act  out  her  thought ; obeyed  the  rule,  — 

“ Go  put  your  creed 
Into  your  deed  ; ” 


268 


. PPENDIX. 


was  ready  to  die  for  a principle  and  starve  for  an  idea ; nor 
think  to  claim  any  merit  for  it ! What  measureless  power 
this  has  ! With  what  hooks  of  steel  this  hinds  men  to  one  ! 

dear  lovable  woman,  welcome  at  a sick  bedside  ; as  much 
in  place  there  as  when  facing  an  angry  nation  ; contented 
in  the  home  she  made  ; the  loyal  friend  ; such  ingenuity  in 
devising  ways  to  help  you  ; the  stalwart  fidelity  of  friendship, 
rare  in  these  easy  going,  half-and-half,  non-committal  days ; 
such  friendsliip  as  allowed  no  word  of  disjDaragement,  no 
doubt  of  a friend’s  worth,  to  insult  her  presence.  A wise 
counsellor,  one  who  made  your  troubles  hers  and  pondered 
thoughtfully  before  she  sjDoke  her  hearty  word  : we  feel  we 
have  lost  one  who  would  have  stood  by  us  in  trouble,  a 
shield.  She  was  the  kind  of  woman  one  would  choose  to 
represent  woman’s  entrance  into  broader  life.  Modest, 
womanly,  simple,  sincere,  solid,  real,  loyal ; to  be  trusted ; 
equal  to  affairs  and  yet  above  them ; mother-wit  ripened  by 
careful  training,  and  enriched  with  the  lore  of  ages  ; a com- 
panion with  the  pass-word  of  every  science  and  aU  htera- 
tures  ; a hand  ready  for  fireside  help  and  a mystic  loving 
to  wander  on  the  edge  of  the  actual,  reaching  out  and  up 
into  the  infinite  and  the  unfathomable  ; so  that  life  was 
lifted  to  romance,  to  heroism  and  the  loftiest  faith.  May  we 
also  have  a faith  that  is  almost  sight.  How  joyful  to  re- 
member, dear  friend,  your  last  counsel,  the  words  you 
thought  spirit  hands  had  traced  for  your  epitaph : “You 
think  us  dead.  We  are  not  dead  ; we  are  the  living.” 


APPENDIX. 


WITHIN  THE  GATE. 

L.  M.  C. 

We  sat  together,  last  May-day,  and  talked 
Of  the  dear  friends  who  walked 
Beside  us,  sharers  of  the  hopes  and  fears 
Of  five  and  forty  years 

Since  first  we  met  in  Freedom’s  hope  forlorn, 

And  heard  her  hattle-horn 
Sound  through  the  valleys  of  the  sleeping  North, 
Calling  her  children  forth. 

And  youth  pressed  forward  with  hope-lighted  eyes, 
And  age,  with  forecast  wise 
Of  the  long  strife  before  the  triumph  won. 

Girded  his  armor  on. 

Sadly,  as  name  by  name  we  called  the  roll, 

We  heard  the  dead-bells  toll 
For  the  unanswering  many,  and  we  knew 
The  living  were  the  few. 


And  we,  who  waited  our  own  call  before 
The  inevitable  door. 

Listened  and  looked,  as  all  have  done,  to  win 
Some  token  from  within. 

No  sign  we  saw,  we  heard  no  voices  call ; 

The  impenetrable  wall 
Cast  down  its  shadow,  like  an  awful  doubt. 
On  all  who  sat  without. 

Of  many  a hint  of  life  beyond  the  veil, 

And  many  a ghostly  tale 


270 


APPENDIX. 


Wherewith  the  ages  spanned  the  gnlf  between 
The  seen  and  the  unseen, 

Seeking  from  omen,  trance,  and  dream  to  gain 
Solace  to  doubtful  pain. 

And  touch,  with  groping  hands,  the  garment  hem 
Of  truth  sufficing  them. 

We  talked;  and,  turning  from  the  sore  unrest 
Of  an  all-baffling  quest. 

We  thought  of  holy  lives  that  from  us  passed 
Hopeful  unto  the  last. 

As  if  they  saw  beyond  the  river  of  death. 

Like  Him  of  Nazareth, 

The  many  mansions  of  the  Eternal  days 
Lift  up  their  gates  of  praise. 

And,  hushed  to  silence  by  a reverent  awe, 
Methought,  O friend,  I saw 

In  thy  true  life  of  word,  and  work,  and  thought. 
The  proof  of  all  we  sought. 

Did  we  not  witness  in  the  life  of  thee 
Immortal  prophecy  ? 

And  feel,  when  with  thee,  that  thy  footsteps  trod 
An  everlasting  road  ? 

Not  for  brief  days  thy  generous  sympathies. 

Thy  scorn  of  selfish  ease  ; 

Not  for  the  poor  prize  of  an  earthly  goal 
Thy  strong  uplift  of  soul. 

Than  thine  was  never  turned  a fonder  heart 
To  nature  and  to  art 

In  fair-formed  Hellas  in  her  golden  prime, 

Thy  Philothea’s  time. 


APPENDIX. 


271 


Yet,  loving  beauty,  thou  couldst  pass  it  by. 

And  for  the  poor  deny 

Thyself,  and  see  thy  fresh,  sweet  flower  of  fame 
Wither  m bhght  and  blame. 

Sharing  His  love  who  holds  in  His  embrace 
The  lowliest  of  our  race. 

Sure  the  Divine  economy  must  be 
Conservative  of  thee  ! 

For  truth  must  live  with  truth,  self-sacrifice 
Seek  out  its  great  allies  ; 

Good  must  find  good  by  gravitation  sure, 

And  love  with  love  endure. 

And  so,  since  thou  hast  passed  within  the  gate 
Whereby  awhile  I wait, 

I give  blind  grief  and  blinder  sense  the  lie  : 

Thou  hast  not  lived  to  die  ! 

John  Gkeenleajf  Whittiee. 


272 


APPENDIX. 


LIST  OF  MRS.  CHILD’S  WORKS, 

WITH  THE  DATE  OF  THEIR  FIRST  PUBLICATION  AS  FAR 
AS  ASCERTAINED. 

Hobomok ; a Tale  of  Early  Times.  Boston,  1824.  Imp. 

12°. 

The  Rebels  ; or,  Boston  before  the  Revolution.  Boston, 
1825.  12°. 

The  Juvenile  Miscellany.  1826-1834. 

The  Juvenile  Souvenir.  Boston,  1828.  12°. 

The  First  Settlers  of  New  England ; or.  Conquest  of  the 
Pequods,  Narragansets,  and  Pokanokets.  As  related  by 
a mother  to  her  children.  Boston,  1829. 

The  (American)  Frugal  Housewife.  Boston,  1829.  12°. 

The  Mother’s  Book.  Boston,  1831.  12°. 

The  Girl’s  Own  Book.  Boston,  1831.  12°. 

The  Coronal ; a Collection  of  Miscellaneous  Pieces,  Written 
at  Various  Times.  Boston,  1831.  18°. 

The  Ladies’  Family  Library. 

Vol.  I.  Biographies  of  Lady  Russell  and  Madame  Guion. 
Boston,  1832.  12°. 

Vol.  II.  Biographies  of  Madame  de  Stael  and  Madame 
Roland.  Boston,  1832.  12°. 

Vol.  III.  Biographies  of  Good  Wives.  Boston,  1833.  12°. 

Contents.  — Lady  Acldand.  — Queen  Anna. — Arria,  Wife 
of  Foetus.  — Lady  Biron.  — Mrs.  Blackwell.  — Calphurnia.  — 
Chelonis.  — Lady  Collingwood.  — Countess  of  Dorsett.  — Queen 
Eleanor  Eponina.  — Lady  Fanshawe.  — Mrs.  Fletcher.  — Mrs. 
Groti'us.  — Mrs.  Howard.  — Mrs.  Huter.  — Countess  of  Hunting- 
don. — Mrs.  Hutchinson.  — Lady  Arabella  Johnson.  — Mrs.  Jud- 
son.  — Mrs.  Klopstock.  — Mrs.  Lavater.  — Mrs.  Lavalette.  — 
Mrs.  Luther.  — Queen  Mary.  — Countess  of  Withsdale. — Mrs. 
Oberlin.  — Panthea.  — Baroness  Reidesel.  — Mrs.  Reiske.  — 
Mrs.  Ross.  — Mrs.  Schiller.  — Countess  Segur.  — Spurzheim.  — 
Sybella.  — Baroness  Vonder  Mart.  — Mrs.  West.  — Mrs.  Wie- 
land.  — Mrs.  Winthrop. 


APPENDIX. 


273 


Vol.  IV.-V.  History  of  the  Condition  of  Women  in  Vari- 
ous Ages  and  Nations.  Boston,  1835.  2 vols.  16°. 

Vol.  I.  The  Women  of  Asia  and  Africa.  Vol.  II. 
The  Women  of  Europe,  America,  and  South  Sea  Isl- 
ands. 

An  Appeal  in  Behalf  of  that  Class  of  Americans  called 
Africans.  Boston,  1833.  12°. 

The  Oasis.  Boston,  1834.  16°. 

Contents.  — Child,  Mrs.  L.  M.  Brief  Memoir  of  Wilberforce ; 
How  to  effect  Emancipation  ; Malem  Boo  ; Illustration  of  Preju- 
dice ; Joanna  ; I thank  my  God  for  my  Humility ; Safe  Mode  of 
Operation;  Scipio  Africanus;  The  Hottentots;  Conversation  with 
Colonizationists ; Knowledge  in  Austria;  Voices  from  the  South; 
Scale  of  Complexions  ; Dangers  of  Emancipation ; Knowledge  in 
the  United  States;  Old  Scip ; Derivation  of  Negro;  Opinions  of 
Travellers ; Jamaica  Mobs.  — Pollen,  Mrs.  Remember  the  Slave ; 
The  Runaway  Slave.  — Child,  D.  L.  Henry  Diaz;  Three  Col- 
ored Republics  of  Guiana;  Judicial  Decisions  in  Slave  States. 
Whittier,  J.  G.  The  Slave  Ships.  — Whittier,  E.  H.  The 
Slave  Trader. — Bradley,  J.  History  of  J.  B.,  by  Himself. — 
May,  Rev.  S.  J.  Miss  Crandall’s  School.  — Florence.  The 
Infant  Abolitionist.  — Gould,  H.  F.  The  Land  of  the  Free.  — 
English  Protest  against  the  Colonization  Society.  — Alexander 
Vasselin.  — Cornelius  of  St.  Croix.  — Ruins  of  Egyptian  Thebes. 
— History  of  Thomas  Jenkins.  — A Negro  Hunt. 

An  Anti-Slavery  Catechism.  Newhuryport,  1836.  12°. 

The  Evils  of  Slavery  and  the  Curse  of  Slavery.  The  first 
proved  by  the  opinions  of  Southerners  themselves  ; the  last 
shown  by  historical  evidence.  Newhuryport,  1836.  12°. 
Philothea : a Homance.  Boston,  1836.  12°. 

The  Family  Nurse.  Boston,  1837.  12°. 

Authentic  Narratives  of  American  Slavery.  Newhuryport, 
1838.  12°. 

Rose  Marian.  Adapted  from  the  German.  1839. 

The  Preaching  of  Whitefield.  (In  Boston  Book,  1841.) 
The  Anti-Slavery  Almanac.  New  York,  1843.  16°. 

Letters  from  New  York.  First  Series.  New  York,  1843. 

12°. 

Flowers  for  Children.  First  and  Second  Series.  1844. 

18 


274 


APPENDIX. 


Letters  from  New  York.  Second  Series.  New  York,  1845. 

12°. 

Fact  and  Fiction.  1846. 

Flowers  for  Children.  Third  Series.  1846. 

Isaac  T.  Hopper ; a True  Life.  Boston,  1853.  12°. 

New  Flowers  for  Children.  1855. 

The  Progress  of  Peligious  Ideas  through  Successive  Ages. 

New  York,  1855.  3 vols.  8°. 

Autumnal  Leaves  : Tales  and  Sketches  in  Prose  and  Rhyme. 
New  York,  1856.  16°. 

Correspondence  between  L.  M.  Child  and  Gov.  Wise  and 
Mrs.  Mason  (of  Virginia).  Boston,  1860.  12°. 

The  Duty  of  Disobedience  to  the  Fugitive  Slave  Act.  An 
Appeal  to  the  Legislators  of  Massachusetts.  Boston, 
1860.  12°.  (Anti-Slavery  Tracts,  No.  9.) 

The  Patriarchal  Institution,  described  by  Members  of  its 
own  Family.  New  York,  1860.  12°. 

The  Right  Way  the  Safe  Way,  proved  by  Emancipation  in 
the  West  Indies  and  elsewhere.  New  York,  1860.  12°. 

The  Freedmen’s  Book.  Boston,  1865.  16°. 

A Romance  of  the  Republic.  Boston,  1867.  12°. 

Looking  towards  Sunset.  From  Sources  Old  and  New, 
Original  and  Selected.  Boston,  1868.  8°. 

An  Appeal  for  the  Indians.  New  York  (1868  ?).  12°. 

Aspirations  of  the  World.  A Chain  of  Opals.  With  an 
Introduction  by  L.  M.  Child.  Boston,  1878.  16°. 


INDEX 


Abdt,  Edward  S.,  Mrs.  Child’s  letters 

to,  Tiii. 

Adams,  John  Quincy,  indebted  to  Mr. 
Child  for  facts  on  the  Texas  question, 
Tiii. ; maintains  the  right  to  proclaim 
emancipation  in  war  time,  151. 

Adams,  Samuel,  Miss  Whitney’s  statue 
of,  257. 

Advertisements  of  fugitive  slaves,  128, 
129. 

Alcott,  A.  Bronson,  and  family,  239. 

Allen,  Mr.,  of  Alabama,  testifies  to  hor- 
rors of  slavery,  131. 

Allyn,  Rev.  Dr.,  letter  to,  9. 

American  Anti-Slavery  Society,  forma- 
tion of,  viii. 

American  Missionary  Association,  re- 
fuses to  circulate  Mrs.  Child’s  “ Ereed- 
men’s  Book,”  201. 

Andrews,  William  P.,  sonnet  to  Mrs. 
Child,  xxiii. 

“ An  English  governess  at  the  Siamese 
Court,”  210. 

Animals,  the  treatment  of,  214. 

Anti-Slavery  Society  (Mass.),  annual 
meeting  of,  mobbed,  148-150. 

“ Appeal  in  behalf  of  that  Class  of  Amer- 
icans called  Africans,”  by  Mrs.  Child, 
ix.,  48,  195. 

Armstrong,  General,  and  Hampton  In- 
stitute, 241. 

Arnold,  Edwin,  257. 

“ Aspirations  of  the  World,”  by  Mrs, 
Child,  xix.,  246. 

“ Aurora  Leigh,”  by  Mrs.  Browning,  87, 
197. 

“ Autobiography  of  a Female  Slave,”  90, 
132. 

Banneker,  Benjamin,  184. 

Beecher,  Henry  Ward,  magnetic  power 
of,  193  ; defends  the  Chinese,  251. 

Beethoven’s  music  contrasted  with 
Mendelssohn’s,  76. 

Benson,  Edmund,  89. 

Berrien,  John  McP.,  U.  S.  Senator,  an- 
ecdote of,  179. 

Bettine  and  Goethe,  50,  51. 

Bible,  anti-slavery  texts  from,  123-125. 

Bishop,  Madame  Anna,  140. 

Bleby,  Rev.  Henry,  134. 

Boston  Athenaeum,  privileges  of,  given 
to,  and  withdrawn  from,  Mrs.  Child, 
195,  264. 


Boutwell,  George  S , speech  of,  168. 

Bremer,  Eredrika,  meets  Mrs.  Child, 
65  ; relates  anecdote  of  Jenny  Lind, 
66 ; her  estimation  of  Lowell  and 
Emerson,  66. 

Brisbane,  Mr.,  51. 

“ Broken  Lights,”  by  Miss  Cobbe,  184. 

Brooks,  Governor,  v. 

Brown,  John,  letter  of  Mrs.  Child  to, 
118 ; his  reply,  119  ; martyrdom  of, 
137. 

Browning’s  (Mrs.)  “ Aurora  Leigh,”  87. 

Bryant,  William C.,  writes  to  Mrs.  Child, 
186. 

Buckle’s  “ History  of  Civilization,”  99. 

Buddha,  257. 

Burns,  Anthony,  returned  to  slavery 
from  Boston,  72. 

Carpenter,  E.,  letters  to,  19,  22,  26. 

Carpenter,  Joseph,  letters  to,  41,  68. 

Cassimir,  a nephew  of  Kossuth,  162. 

Chadwick,  John  W.,  242. 

Channing,  William  Ellery,  discusses  the 
anti-slavery  movement  with  Mrs. 
Child,  24  ; letters  of,  to  Mrs.  Child, 
44,  45  ; Mrs.  Child’s  reminiscences  of, 
48;  influenced  by  Mrs.  Child’s  “Ap- 
peal,” 77  ; her  imagination  of  him 
in  the  spiritual  world,  144. 

Channing,  William  II.,  188,  257. 

Chicago  “ Tribune  ” has  biographical 
sketch  of  Mrs.  Child,  201. 

Chapman,  Maria  Weston,  19, 147. 

Child,  letter  to  a,  36. 

Child,  David  Lee,  biographical  sketch  of, 

viii.  ; first  meets  Miss  Francis,  8;  his 

marriage,  10  : letters  to,  from  his 

wife,  10,  82,  86,  88,  96  ; his  domestic 
happiness,  xvi. ; his  death,  xix.,  229; 
Mrs.  Child’s  reminiscences  of,  xvi. 

Child,  Lydia  Maria,  publishes  her  “ Ap- 
peal ” in  behalf  of  the  colored  people, 

ix.  ; her  consequent  unpopularity,  ix.  ; 
an  advocate  of  individual  freedom, 
12 ; describes  pro-slavery  excitement 
in  New  York,  15  ; indifference  to  lit- 
erary success,  21  ; on  the  prejudice 
against  color  among  Friends,  23 ; 
converses  with  Dr.  Channing  on  the 
anti-slavery  movement,  24  ; hears  An- 
gelina Grimk6  speak,  26 ; life  in 
Northampton,  29-41  ; discussions 
with  slave-holders,  30  ; abusive  letters 


276 


INDEX. 


to,  from  Southerners,  41;  edits  the 
“Standard,''  in  New  York,  42 ; lives 
with  Isaac  T.  Hopper's  family,  43  ; in- 
terest in  New  Cluirch  doctrines,  43  ; 
letters  of  Dr.  Channing  to,  44,  45  ; 
her  reminiscences  of  Dr.  Channing, 
48:  life  in  New  York,  50-60  ; charac- 
terization of,  by  Rev.  Mr.  Kent,  55 ; 
interview  with  Dr.  Palfr<>y,  56  ; reads 
Rinerson's  essays,  57  ; her  admiration 
of  Domenichino's  “ Cmna’an  Sibyl," 
57 ; has  a birthday  celebration,  59  ; her 
views  on  a salaried  priesthood,  61  ; 
reads  tlie  “ Countess  of  Rudolstaat,-’ 
62;  dislikes  letters  of  introdnction, 
63  ; her  enjoyment  of  music,  64  ; at 
woi-k  on  “ The  Progress  of  Religious 
Ideas,”  65  ; meets  Fredrika  Bremer, 
65 ; makes  her  will,  74 ; passes 
through  strange  spiritual  experiences, 
74,  75;  spends  a lonely  winter  at 
AVayland,  75 ; prefers  Mendelssohn’s 
music  to  Beethoven’s,  and  Raphael’s 
works  to  IMichael  Angelo’s,  76 ; her 
labor  in  writing  “The  Progress  of 
Religious  Ideas,”  78 ; her  interest  in 
the  Fremont  campaign  and  Kansas 
conflict,  79,  80  : working  for  the  Kan- 
sas emigrants,  83  ; writes  a Free  Soil 
song,  83  ; death  of  her  father,  87  ; in- 
terviews with  Charles  Sumner  and 
Henry  Wilson,  88 ; her  low  estimate 
of  worldly  rank,  89  ; corre.sponds  with 
Miss  Mattie  Griffith,  89  ; meets  David 
A.  Wasson,  91  ; her  grief  at  Ellis  Gray 
Loring’s  death,  95  ; meets  J.  G.  IVliit- 
tier,  97 ; her  indebtedness  to  her 
brother,  98  ; her  delight  in  works  of 
art  and  in  nature,  98, 99  ; reads  Buck- 
le’s “ History  of  Civilization,”  99; 
lines  in  memory  of  Ellis  Gray  Loring, 
101 ; correspondence  with  John 
Brown,  Governor  "Wise,  and  5Irs.  Ma- 
son, 103-137  : attends  prayer-meeting 
of  colored  people,  137  : reads  F.  W. 
Newman's  books,  139  ; reads  “ Coun- 
terparts,” 140  : visit  to  IVhittier,  141  ; 
discusses  a future  state  of  existence, 
143  ; attends  an  anti-slavery  festival, 
147  ; describes  a mob  at  an  anti-slav- 
ery meeting,  148,  149  ; denounces  the 
return  of  fugitive  slaves  by  U.  S. 
troops,  150  ; her  thoughts  absorbed  by 
the  war,  153  ; meets  old  friends  at  the 
Anti-Slavery  office,  155  ; visits  at  Mr. 
Sewall’s,  156  ; her  dread  of  a war  with 
England,  163  ; reads  “ John  Brent,” 
164;  donations  for  the  “contra- 
bands,” 165  ; working  for  the  Kansas 
troops,  168 ; metaphysics  her  aver- 
sion, 169  ; her  active  winter  life  at 
IVayland,  170 ; her  feelings  about 
the  Emancipation  Proclamation,  171  ; 
death  of  her  brother,  172;  her  in- 
debtedness to  him,  173 ; her  sorrow 
at  Colonel  Shaw’s  death,  176  ; partial 
destruction  of  her  house  by  fire,  177  ; 
reads  Weiss's  “Life  of  Parker,”  179; 


meets  George  Thompiaon,  181 ; her 
happiness  over  Lincoln's  reelection, 
183^  siicccss  of  her  “ Looking  towards 
Sunset,”  185;  her  enjoyment  of  win- 
ter scenery,  191;  publishes  “The 
Freedmen’s  Book,”  192  ; her  “ Right 
■Way  the  Safe  Way,”  192  ; on  novels 
and  sermons,  192,  193 ; not  a loser, 
but  a gainer,  by  her  adherence  to  the 
anti-slavery  cause,  194 ; her  first 
meeting  with  lilr.  Garrison,  195  ; the 
privileges  of  the  Boston  Athenaeum 
given  to,  and  withdrawn  from,  her, 
195,  264  ; cultivates  cheerfulness,  196  ; 
reads  the  “ Spanish  Gypsy,”  197 ; her 
sixty-seventh  birthday,  198;  on  Fou- 
rier and  the  labor  question,  199  ; her 
jubilation  over  Grant’s  election,  200  ; 
reads  Taine's  papers  on  art,  200  ; her 
“ Freedmen’s  Book  ” and  the  Ameri- 
can Missionary  Association,  201 ; her 
aversion  to  newspaper  publicity,  201 ; 
her  judgment  of  George  Sand,  205  ; 
lines  to  George  Thompson,  206  f her 
appeal  to  Mr.  Sumner  in  behalf  of  the 
rights  of  women,  208 ; on  Grant’s 
reelection,  213  ; on  the  treatment  of 
animals,  214  ; on  the  Indian  question, 
XX.,  218-221 ; in  favor  of  the  pro- 
hibitoi’y  law,  221;  reads  Mrs.  Som- 
erville's Life,  and  Mill's  Autobiogra- 
phy, 222,  and  “A  Princess  of  Thule,” 
223  ; her  grief  at  Charles  Sumner’s 
death,  224 ; her  reformation  of  a 
drunkard,  227  ; her  view's  on  “ Sex  in 
Education,'’  229  ; her  loneliness  after 
her  husband’s  death,  230  ; passes  the 
winter  at  Staten  Island,  231 ; Christ- 
mas in  New  l"ork,  232  ; returns  to 
Wayland,  233;  investigates  “spirit- 
photography,”  234;  visits  the  Al- 
cotts  at  Concord,  239  ; on  the  equality 
of  the  sexes,  243  ; reads  Renan's  “ Life 
of  Jesus,”  245;  publishes  “Aspira- 
tions of  the  World,”  247 ; her  rem- 
iniscences of  George  Thompson,  248  ; 
her  views  on  the  Chinese  question, 

251  ; speculations  on  a future  life, 

252  ; on  the  death  of  Mr.  Garrison, 
254,  255  ; reads  “ The  Light  of  Asia,'’ 
257 ; reminiscences  of  anti-slavery 
days,  258  ; her  interest  in  Garfield’s 
election,  260  ; her  last  days,  261 ; rem- 
iniscences of,  xxi.  ; Mr.  Phillips's  re- 
marks at  her  funeral,  263  ; Whittier’s 
poem  to  her  memory,  269. 

Chinese  in  America,  agitation  against 
the,  251. 

Choate,  Rufus,  employed  to  defend  the 
slave  child,  Med,  20. 

Christianity  an  accretion  of  all  the  ante- 
cedent religious  aspirations  of  man- 
kind, 202. 

“ Christian  Register,”  The,  194,  201. 

“Church  of  the  Future,”  The,  by  Miss 
Cobbe,  184. 

Clarke,  Edw'ard  II.,  M.  D.,  on  “Sex  in 
Education,”  229. 


INDEX. 


277 


Clarke,  James  Freeman,  addresses  an 
anti-slavery  meeting,  149  ; Mr.  Garri- 
son’s letter  to,  243. 

Cobbe,  Frances  Power,  her  “Broken 
Lights,”  and  “ Church  of  the  Future,” 
184. 

Colored  people  of  Boston  commemorate 
John  Brown's  death,  137. 

Con.stantine,  the  Emperor,  his  conver- 
sion to  Christianity,  187. 

Constitution,  U.  S.,  passage  of  13th 
Amendment  to,  188. 

“ Contrabands,”  anecdotes  of  the,  158: 
donations  for,  165. 

Conway,  Martin  F.,  of  Kansas,  168. 

Correggio’s  “Diana,”  Toschi’s  engrav- 
ing of,  70. 

“ Countess  of  Rudolstaat,”  The,  a 
novel,  62. 

Crawford,  Mr.,  of  London,  12. 

“ Cumaean  Sibyl,”  by  Domenichino,  57. 

Curtis,  George  William,  79;  oration  of, 
85  ; conducts  Sunday  services,  233  ; let- 
ter on  caucus  dictation,  252. 

Davis,  Jeff.,  152. 

De  Stael,  Madame,  247. 

Devens,  Charles,  redeems  Thomas  Sims 
from  slavery,  189. 

Domenichino’s  “ Cumaean  Sibyl,”  57. 

Douglass,  Frederick,  259. 

Draft  riots  of  1863  in  New  York,  178. 

Dresel,  Mrs.  Anna  Loring,  letter  to,  191, 

Dresser,  Amos,  publicly  flogged  at  Nash- 
ville, Tenn.,  184. 

Dwight,  John  S.,  29,  37,  50. 

“Eclectic  Review,”  The,viii. 

Education  of  women  in  Egypt  and  In- 
dia, the,  212,  213. 

Elssler,  Fanny,  35. 

Emancipation  Proclamation,  171. 

Emerson,  Ralph  Waldo,  attitude  of  the 
Unitarians  towards,  34 ; sends  Mrs. 
Child  his  Essays,  57 ; speaks  at  a 
mobbed  anti-slavery  meeting,  149. 

Emerson  and  the  Sphinx,  247. 

“Eminent  Women  of  the  Age,”  vi. 

Equality  of  the  sexes,  243-245. 

“ Fable  for  Critics,”  A,  hy  J.  R. 
Lowell,  xiv. 

Faneuil  Hall,  meeting  at,  in  behalf  of 
Anthony  Burns,  73. 

“ Fingal’s  Cave,”  Mendelssohn's  over- 
ture of,  223. 

Foote,  Henry  S.,  U.  S.  Senator,  179. 

Fortress  Monroe,  fugitive  slaves  at,  150, 
151. 

Forten,  R.  R.,  184. 

Fort  Pickens  (Florida),  fugitive  slaves 
returned  from,  by  U.  S.  officers,  150. 

Fort  Wagner,  the  attack  on,  236 ; the 
grave  of  Colonel  Shaw  at,  238. 

Fourier,  Francois  Charles  Marie,  199. 

Francis,  Miss  A.  B.,  letters  to,  231,  251, 
258. 

Francis,  Con  vers,  aids  and  encourages 


his  sister,  v.,  vi.,1 ; letters  tol,2,4,  5, 
6,  7,  12, 16, 17,  29, 33,  39,  40, 50, 58, 63, 
64,  65,  74,  89,  98 ; on  the  death  of  his 
wife,  163  ; death  of,  172. 

Francis,  Lydia  Maria,  birth  of,  v. ; her 
first  schooling,  v.,  vi.  ; ambitious  to 
write  a novel,  vi. ; reads  “Paradise 
Lost,”  1,  2;  “Guy  Manneriug,”  2; 
Gibbon's  “Roman  Empire,”  4; 
“ Shakespeare,”  4 ; “ The  Spectator,” 
6 ; Johnson  her  favorite  writer,  5 ; 
takes  a school  in  Gardiner,  Me.,  5; 
her  opinion  of  Byron,  7 ; discusses 
Paley's  system,  7 ; her  early  literary 
successes,  vii.,  10;  first  meets  Mr. 
Child,  8 ; her  marriage,  10. 

“ Freedmen's  Book,”  The,  by  Mrs. 
Child,  192,  201. 

Free  Religious  Association,  meeting  of 
the,  239. 

Fremont,  John  C.,  79 ; his  emancipa- 
tion proclamation,  162. 

Friends,  the,  degeneracy  of,  22,28. 

Frothingham,  Rev.  0.  B.,  232. 

“ Frugal  Housewife,”  The,  vii. 

Fugitive  slaves,  advertisements  of,  128, 
129  ; returned  by  U.  S. troops,  149, 150, 

Furness,  Rev.  William  H.,  81. 

Future  life,  speculations  on  the,  252 

Garfield,  James  A.,  260. 

Garrison,  William  Lloyd,  interests  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Child  in  the  slavery  ques- 
tion, viii,  23;  favors  the  dissolution 
of  the  Anti-Slavery  Society,  190  ; his 
first  interview  with  Mrs.  Child,  195; 
mobbed  in  Boston  streets,  235  ; letter 
to  J.  F.  Clarke,  243  ; defends  the  Chi- 
nese, 251 ; the  tributes  to,  on  his 
death,  254  ; his  belief  in  continued 
existence,  254  ; his  influence  on  Mrs. 
Child's  life,  255. 

Gay,  Mrs.  S.  H.,  177. 

Gibbons,  James  S.,  house  of,  gutted  by 
rioters,  178. 

Giles,  Governor,  message  of,  to  Virginia 
Legislature,  132. 

“ Girl's  Book,”  The,  vii. 

Goethe  and  Bettine,  50,  51, 

Grant’s  (President  U.  S.)  election,  199  ; 
reelection,  213;  his  Indian  policy, 
220. 

Griffith,  Miss  Mattie,  emancipates  her 
slaves,  89-91 ; her  “ Autobiography  of 
a Female  Slave,”  90,  132. 

Grimkd,  Angelina,  addresses  a commit- 
tee of  the  Massachusetts  Legislature, 
26 ; her  testimony  against  slavery, 
130. 

Grimkd,  Sarah  M.,  her  testimony  against 
slavery,  129. 

Hampton  Institute  and  General  Arm- 
strong, 241. 

Hedrick,  Professor,  expelled  from  North 
Carolina,  108. 

Henry  the  Eighth  and  the  Protestant 
reformation,  187. 


278 


INDEX. 


Heyrick,  Elizabeth,  promulgates  the 
doctrine  of  “ Immediate  Emancipa- 
tion,” 23. 

Higginson,  T.  W.,  his  biographical  ac- 
count of  Mrs.  Child,  vi.,  xiii. ; sermon 
to  the  people  of  Lawrence,  Kans.,  84  ; 
speech  at  an  anti-slavery  meeting,  149. 

Hincks,  Governor,  of  the  West  Indies, 
134. 

” History  of  Women,”  vii. 

Hoar,  Samuel,  expelled  from  South  Car- 
olina, 108. 

“ Hobomok,”  Mrs.  Child’s  first  story, 
vii. 

Hopper,  Isaac  T.,  43 ; Mrs.  Child’s  Life 
of,  xiii. 

Ilosmer,  Harriet,  68. 

Hovey,  Charles  E.,  82. 

Indians,  treatment  of  the,  218-220. 

Jack,  C.4.ptain,  the  Modoc  chief,  220. 

Jack.sou,  General  Andrew,  and  the  Sem- 
inole War,  219. 

Jackson,  Francis,  260. 

Jay,  John,  188. 

Jefferson,  Thomas,  testimony  of  against 
slavery,  133. 

“ John  Brent,”  by  Theodore  Winthrop, 
164. 

“ John  Brown  Song,”  the,  157. 

Johnson,  Andrew,  speech  of,  at  Nash- 
ville, 184. 

Johnson,  Oliver,  232. 

Johnson,  Rev.  Samuel,  96,  214. 

Julian,  George  W.,  letter  to,  187. 

“Juvenile  Miscellany,”  vii.,  10,  256. 

Kent,  Rev.  Mr.,  characterizes  Mrs. 
Child,  55. 

King,  Miss  Augusta,  letters  to,  37,  52, 
56. 

Labor  Question,  the,  199. 

Lafayette’s  observation  of  the  change  in 
color  of  the  slaves  in  Virginia,  126. 

Laws  of  the  Slave  States,  against  inter- 
marriage, 126 ; against  negro  testi- 
mony, 126 ; in  regard  to  punishment 
of  slaves,  127 ; by  which  the  master 
appropriated  a slave's  earnings,  128  ; 
prohibiting  education  of  the  blacks, 
128. 

Leonowens,  Mrs.  A.  H.,  her  book  on 
Siam,  210,  216. 

“ Letters  from  New  York,”  Mrs.  Child’s, 
xi.,  45. 

“ Light  of  Asia,”  The,  257. 

Lincoln,  President,  faith  of  the  slaves 
in,  150  ; reelection  of,  183. 

Lind,  Jenny,  anecdote  of,  66. 

“ Linda,”  the  author  of,  204. 

Lives  of  Madame  Roland  and  Baroness 
de  Stael,  by  Mrs.  Child,  xi. 

Livingstone,  Dr.,  and  Stanley,  221. 

“ Looking  towarsis  Sunset,”  by  Mrs. 
Child,  success  of,  185. 

Loring,  Miss  Anna,  letters  to,  53,  94. 


Loring,  Ellis  Gray,  21 ; letters  to,  43, 
65,  74  ; death  of,  95 ; lines  by  Mrs. 
Child  in  memory  of,  101. 

Loring,  Mrs.  Ellis  Gray,  letters  to,  15, 
28,  82. 

Lowell,  J.  R.,  tribute  to  Mrs.  Child  in 
his  “ Fable  for  Critics,”  xiv.,  xviii. ; 
Fredrika  Bremer’s  estimate  of,  66. 

“Marm  Betty,”  Mrs.  Child's  earliest 
teacher,  v. 

Married  Women  “ dead  in  the  law,”  74 

Martineau,  Harriet,  anecdote  of,  19  ; her 
letter  to  the  “ Standard,”  167. 

Maryland,  emancipation  in,  184. 

Mason,  Mrs.  M.  J.  C.,  letter  of,  to  Mrs. 
Child,  120 ; Mrs.  Child’s  reply  to, 
123. 

Mason  and  Slidell,  capture  of,  162. 

Massachusetts  Anti-Slavery  Society,  an- 
nual meeting  of  mobbed,  148-150. 

“ Massachusetts  Journal,”  the,  viii. 

May,  Rev.  Samuel,  72. 

May,  Rev.  Samuel  J.,  commends  Mrs. 
Child’s  “ Progress  of  Religious  Ideas,” 
77  ; meets  Mrs.  Child,  156  ; letters  to, 
192,  194 ; his  “ Recollections  of  our 
Anti-Slavery  Conflict,”  194;  death  of, 
212  ; reminiscence  of,  249. 

Med,  the  slave-child,  case  of,  20. 

Mendelssohn  and  Beethoven,  their  music 
contrasted,  76. 

Mexico,  the  plot  against  denounced  by 
Mr.  Child,  viii. 

Michael  Angelo  and  Raphael,  76. 

Mill’s  (John  Stuart)  Autobiography, 

222. 

Milmore’s  (Martin)  bust  of  Charles  Sum- 
ner, 187. 

Minute  Man  at  Concord,  the,  257. 

Missouri  Compromise,  efforts  to  repeal 
the,  70. 

Mobbing  of  the  anti-slavery  meetings, 
148-150. 

Modocs,  persecution  of  the,  220  ; their 
assault  on  the  Peace  Commissioners, 
2‘21. 

Montgomery,  Col.  James,  161, 162. 

Morse,  Professor,  on  Japan,  246. 

“ Mother's  Book,”  The,  vii. 

Muller's  (Max)  “ Science  of  Language,” 

201. 

Nebraska  Bill,  passage  of  the,  72. 

“ Negro  Boat  Song,”  by  Whittier,  159. 

“ New  Chapter  of  Christian  Evidences,” 
in  the  “ Atlantic  Monthly,  202.” 

New  Church  doctrines,  Mrs.  Child’s  in- 
terest in,  43. 

New  England  Anti-Slavery  Society,  for- 
mation of  the,  viii. 

Newman's  (Francis  W.)  works  on  “ The 
Soul,”  and  “ Phases  of  Faith,”  139. 

New  York  draft  riots  of  1863,  178. 

“ North  American  Review  ” praises  Mrs 
Child,  vii. 

Novels  and  Sermons,  comparative  value 
of,  192. 


INDEX. 


279 


Old  Tkstament,  the,  injurious  influence 
of  parts  of,  218. 

“ Oriental  Religions,”  by  Samuel  John- 
son, 214. 

O.sceola,  the  Seminole  chief,  219. 

Osgood,  Miss  Lucy,  letters  to,  61,  76, 

80,  81,  84,  89,  91,  95,  99,  139,  143,  162, 
169,  174,  179,  185,  188,  192,  200,  203, 
204, 209,  211,  212,  214. 

Paine,  Thomas,  grave  of,  16. 

Palfrey,  John  G.,  t>.  D.,  liberates  the 
slaves  bequeathed  to  him,  56  ; influ- 
enced by  Mrs.  Child's  “Appeal,”  77. 

Parker,  Theodore,  his  first  return  from 
Europe,  57 ; farewell  note  to  Mrs. 
Child,  139  ; Weiss\s  biography  of,  179  ; 
magnetic  power  of,  193. 

Parsons,  Mrs.  S.  M.,  letters  to,  137,  229, 
242,  243. 

Paul,  the  Apostle,  201,202. 

Personal  Liberty  Bill  of  Massachusetts, 
effort  to  repeal  the,  145. 

Phelps,  Elizabeth  Stuart,  229. 

Phillips,  AVendell,  confronts  a mob, 
147-149 ; defends  the  Chinese,  251 ; 
tribute  of,  at  Garrison's  funeral,  254  ; 
his  remarks  at  Mrs.  Child's  funeral, 
263. 

“ Philothea,”  by  Mrs.  Child,  xi.,  21. 

Pierce,  Mrs.  E.  C. , letter  to,  42. 

Pierce,  Senator,  of  Maryland,  on  “ Un- 
cle Tom's  Cabin,”  69. 

Pocasset  tragedy,  the,  254. 

“ Princess  of  Thule,”  A,  by  William 
Black,  223. 

‘ Progress'of  Religious  Ideas,”  The,  by 
Mrs.  Child,  xii.,  65,  77,  265. 

“Progressive  Friends,”  meeting  of  the, 

81. 

Prohibitory  law,  aim  and  effect  of  the, 

222. 

Protestant]  reformation,  the,  helped  on 
by  base  agents,  187. 

Protestant  reformation  in  England,  the, 
32. 

Quincy,  Edmund,  presides  at  an  anti- 
slavery meeting,  150  ; anecdote  of,  173. 

R.\ndolph,  John,  on  the  insecurity  of 
slave-holders,  133. 

Raphael  and  Michael  Angelo,  76. 

‘Rejected  Stone,”  The,  by  M.  D.  Con- 
way, 160. 

Renan’s  “ Life  of  Jesus,”  245. 

“ Richmond  Enquirer,”  the,  on  the 
subserviency  of  the  North,  73. 

Ripley,  George,  22. 

“ Romance  of  the  Republic,”  A,  by  Mrs. 
Child,  xix. 

Rothschilds,  the,  compel  the  Emperor  of 
Austria  to  repeal  oppressive  laws 
against  the  Jews,  141. 

Russell,  Mrs.  S.  S.,  letters  to,  246,  262. 

Sand,  George,  205. 

Sargent,  Miss  Henrietta,  letters  to,  24, 
31,  54. 153, 156,  168,  206. 


Savage,  Rev.  Minot  J.,  245. 

Scudder,  Miss  Eliza,  letters  to,  174,  180, 
182, 183, 196 ; her  verses  to  Mrs.  Child, 
175. 

Sears,  Rev.  E.  H.,  92. 

Searle,  Miss  Lucy,  letters  to,  152,  155, 
166, 167, 170. 

Seminole  war,  origin  of  the,  218. 

Sewall,  Samuel  E.,  letters  to,  143,  232; 
Mrs.  Child  visits,  156. 

Sewall,  Mrs.  S.  E.,  letters  to,  197,234, 
254,  257. 

“Sex  in  Education,”  by  Dr.  E.  H 
Clarke,  229. 

Shaw,  Miss  Sarah,  letter  to,  12. 

Shaw,  Francis  G.,  letters  to,  30,  35, 
37,  62,  70,  165,  177, 198,  205,  216,  218, 
261. 

Shaw,  lion.  Lemuel,  letter  to,  145. 

Shaw,  Colonel  Robert  G.,  172,  173,  235; 
death  of,  176 ; proposed  statue  of, 
190  ; sword  of  rescued,  236  ; opposed 
to  burning  of  Darien,  237  ; his  grave 
at  Fort  W’agner,  238  ; AVhittier’s  trib- 
ute to,  240. 

Shaw,  Mrs.  S.  B.,  letters  to,  68,  75.  78, 
85,  87,  93,  98,  140,  141,  144,  147, 150, 
164,  171,  172,  176,  180,  189,  190,  195, 
199,  213  , 218  , 222  , 224  , 226,  229  , 233, 
239.  240,  241,245,  246,  252,258. 

Sheridan’s  (Phil.)  barbarities  toward  the 
Indians,  220. 

Siam,  abolition  of  slavery  in,  216. 

Silsbee,  Mrs.  Nathaniel,  letters  to,  59, 
67. 

Sims,  Thomas,  the  fugitive  slave,  144 ; 
his  ransom  secured  by  Mrs.  Child,  145, 
189. 

Slaves,  cruelties  to,  126-132. 

Smith,  Gerrit,  makes  an  anti-slavery 
speech  in  Congress,  70;  his  regard 
for  Mrs.  Child,  166. 

Society  for  the  Prevention  of  Cruelty 
to  Animals,  213. 

Somerville,  Mary,  Life  of,  222. 

“ Spanish  Gypsy,”  The,  197. 

Sphinx,  the  Egyptian,  71. 

Spirit-photography,  234. 

Sprague,  Charles,  235. 

“Standard,”  the  “National  Anti-Slav- 
ery,” edited  by  Mrs.  Child,  xiii.,  43; 
letter  to,  163. 

Stowe,  Harriet  Beecher,  and  “ Uncle 
Tom’s  Cabin,”  69. 

Suffrage  for  women,  appeal  to  Mr.  Sum- 
ner in  behalf  of,  207. 

Sumner,  Charles,  speaks  in  Congress 
against  Fugitive  Slave  Law,  69  ; influ- 
enced by  Mrs.  Child’s  “ Appeal,”  77  ; 
the  assault  on,  78  ; calls  on  Mrs.  Child, 
88  ; his  position  on  the  Mason  and  Sli- 
dell case,  163  ; Milmore’s  bust  of,  187  ; 
letters  to,  207. 

Swedenboi’g  and  the  New  Church,  202. 

Swedenborg’s  key  of  correspondences 
75. 

Taine’s  (H.  a.)  papers  on  art  200. 


280 


INDEX. 


Tappan,  Arthur,  threatened  with  as- 
sassination, 15. 

Taylor,  Father,  anecdote  of,  213. 

Texas  question,  J.  Q.  Adams's  speeches 
on,  viii. 

“ The  Kehels  ; a Tale  of  the  Revolu- 
tion,” vii. 

“ The  Right  Way  the  Safe  Way,”  by 
Mrs.  Child,  192. 

“ The  World  that  I am  Passing 
Through,”  by  Mrs.  Child,  x. 

Thirteenth  Amendment  to  U.  S.  Consti- 
tution, passage  of,  188. 

Thome,  James  A.,  denounces  slavery, 
131. 

Thompson,  George,  threatened  with  ab- 
duction from  New  York,  15 ; speaks 
in  the  hall  of  the  U.  S.  House  of 
Representatives,  180  ; contrast  be- 
tween his  first  and  last  visits  to  the 
United  States,  181 ; his  explanation  of 
England’s  attitude  during  the  war, 
181 ; lines  to,  206  ; reminiscences  of, 
218. 

Tubman,  Harriet,  alias  “ Moses,”  161. 

Tucker,  St.  George,  testimony  of,  against 
slavery,  132. 

“Uncle  Tom’s  Cabin,”  success  of,  69; 
read  in  Siam,  216. 

Underwood,  John  C.,  expelled  from 
Virginia,  108. 

Unitariauism  a mere  half-way  house, 
189. 

Unitarians,  the,  and  R.  W.  Emerson,  34  ; 
convocation  of,  at  New  York,  189. 


Venus  op  Milo,  the,  172,  218. 

Victor  Hugo’s  tragedy  of  John  Brown, 
173. 


Wallcut,  Robert  F.,  234. 

War  anecdotes,  158,  161,  180,  204. 
"Was.son,  David  A.,  80,  91. 

Way  laud.  Mass.,  Mrs.  Child’s  home  in, 

XV. 

Webster,  Daniel,  willing  to  defend  the 
slave-child  Med,  20 ; statue  of,  190  ; 
“Ichabod,'’  259. 

Weiss’s  (Rev.  John)  biography  of 
Theodore  Parker,  179. 

Weld,  Angelina  Grimk6,  memorial  of, 
258. 

M'eld,  Theodore  D.,  letter  to,  258. 

“ Westminster  Review,”  The,  202. 
White,  Maria,  50. 

Whitney,  Miss  Anne,  letters  to,  247, 
256 ; her  statue  of  Samuel  Adams, 
257. 

Whittier,  John  G.,  biographical  sketch 
of  Mrs.  Child,  V. -XXV.,  97  ; lines  to  Mrs. 
Child,  on  Ellis  Gray  Loring,  102 ; an- 
noyed by  curiosity-seekers,  142  ; let- 
ters to,  157,  159,  210,  215,  228,  235, 
236  ; on  the  death  of  S.  J.  May,  212  ; 
his  ti-ibute  to  Colonel  Shaw,  240 ; 
lines  to  Mrs.  Child  after  her  death, 
269. 

Wightman,  James  M,,  149. 

Wild,  Judge,  20. 

Willis,  N.  P.,  58. 

Wilson,  Henry,  88. 

Wise,  Gov.  Henry  A.,  letter  of  Mrs. 
Child  to,  103  ; his  reply,  105 ; Mrs. 
Child’s  rejoinder  to,  107  ; speech  of, 
in  Congress  in  1842,  109. 

Wright,  Elizur,  Jr.,  barricades  his  door 
against  pro-slavery  violence,  16. 

“ Woman  Question,”  the,  208,  243-245. 
Woman  suffrage,  Mrs.  Child’s  letter  to 
Mr.  Sumner  on,  207. 


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